


Trials with Strangers

by kitcat12



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon, outlander tv
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asexual Character, Canon Divergence, Feminism, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, No Romance, Passionate Friendship, Rape Recovery, Self-Harm, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:05:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitcat12/pseuds/kitcat12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A blind woman from the year 2016 goes on a camping trip, and ends up in 1743's Scotland after touching a standing stone. There she meets Murtagh, and discovers that a magical link exists between them. They must overcome trauma from the past while helping Jamie lift the price off his head, as well as try to stop a Jacobite rebelion. This story is alternate universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter one.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedStarFiction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedStarFiction/gifts).



> Hi there, I hope you all enjoy this story. There will be mentions of rape in this fanfic. I am letting you know in case some of you are easily triggered, you can skip this story. Telepathic speech is in italics. Please let me know if you find any mistakes in this, I will correct them and repost.

Aimee woke with a start, breathing hard. Sweat ran down her forehead, moistening the tangled blankets around her.  
She sat up, checking her talking alarm clock that was on her bedside table. It was midnight.  
She wondered if Nick would be awake or not, he probably would be, he loved to stay up late.  
He had told her that his door was open anytime she needed it, especially after bad dreams. Aimee went to her closet, and grabbed a pair of tennis shoes. She was glad he lived only a door away from her, a driveway separated their houses.  
She walked to the door, and slipped out into the night. The sound of crickets filled the air; a cool breeze blew through the trees, making the leaves whisper.  
The familiar strains of a blues guitar reached her ears as she stepped onto her neighbor’s front porch.

“Well, hello there stranger,” Nick greeted, walking towards her. “Do you need some of my famous vegetarian gumbo?” This was her comfort dish after a bad dream.  
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Aimee replied in a soft tone.

“None of that now,” replied Nick, entering the house. “Come on in, and I will fix you right up. I made a nice batch of it yesterday. I’ll just warm it for you on the stove top.” Aimee thanked him, and followed him into the house.  
She sat at the wooden table as Nick clattered around his kitchen, singing a Jimmy Hendrix song in his raspy voice. She could hear the loud bang of a pan being set on the stove, as well as the thud of a cabinet door being closed.  
Soon the comforting smells of spices and veggies filled the small kitchen. Nick entered the room, setting a tray on the table.

“I have lemonade or ice tea on the tray for you,” he said, sitting down across from her.

“Thank you,” Aimee said. The lemonade was in a smaller piture than the tea. It made it easier for her to tell what she was grabbing.

“You are quite welcome Madam,” replied Nick. She smiled at the familiar taste of the tart drink while she sipped.

“This is very good Nick,” she complimented.

“It had better be,” he replied, a smile in his tone, “I squeezed each lemon by hand you know, none of that frozen concentrated nonsense for me thanks, my Mother would roll in her grave if she ever saw me using such things. She was a famous chef after all, she taught me everything I know about Cajun cooking.”

“Have you ever thought of opening your own restaurant?” Aimee inquired.

“Oh goodness no, that would be too much stress. I prefer cooking for my friends and family,” replied Nick, getting to his feet, and heading to the kitchen to stir the gumbo.

“I believe that every man needs to learn how to cook,” he added.

“You were a househusband were you not?” Aimee asked. She was curious about her neighbor’s younger days; he had many stories to share.

“That is quite right,” said Nick, entering the room and sitting across from her. He grabbed the lemonaid, and made a drink for himself. “My wife was quite happy with her singing career with her band, so I stayed home, and took care of the twins. I preferred it anyways, even though our families disapproved of the arrangement. It was a traditional marriage in the beginning, but neither of us was happy with it, so we decided to try something different. This also gave me the opportunity to teach my boys about activism. They went with me to organization meetings for civil rights demonstrations.” Aimee smiled as she sipped her lemonade, the nightmare was fading from her mind as she listened to him talk about his family.

“Did they inherit you’re cooking skills?” Aimee asked, grinning.

“No, they did not,” he replied, laughing. “I had to put out many a kitchen fire during those days. I believe the gumbo is done, I will return shortly.” Aimee nodded, listening to his soft footsteps as he entered the kitchen.  
He resumed his song as he quickly served up the food.

“Here you are, a nice bowl of gumbo for you,” he said, setting a bowl in front of her.

“I won’t be able to stay long,” Aimee said, taking a bite of the rich gumbo, “I am going camping in the woods tomorrow, so I will need to pack, and get ready.”  
“Well, I hope you have a good time,” said Nick. “I have a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies if you want some.”

“Thanks Nick, you have been a tremendous help,” Aimee said softly.

“Think nothing of it Madam,” Nick replied, topping off her empty drink, “I have been through hard times myself. I may not know how you are feeling, but I know that a friend can make all the difference. I will always be here when you need it.” A lump formed in Aimee’s throat, so she quickly took a bite of gumbo. Nick was silent, giving her a moment of privacy.  
“Do you need me to stop and get you anything while you are gone?” Nick asked.

“No thank you,” replied Aimee, swallowing her food.

“All right, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Aimee attempted a smile for him as she finished her food.

“The reason I ask is because I am going into town to get new tires for my truck, and a change of oil,” said Nick. Aimee nodded in understanding as she went to put her empty bowl in the sink.

“Do you need any help with the dishes?” she asked.

“No thank you, I can manage,” Nick replied, pressing a box in her hands. “These are the cookies for your outing. I hope you enjoy them.”

“I am sure that I will,” Aimee replied, allowing him to see her to the door. “Have a good night.”

“You as well,” said Nick, holding open the door for her. “One more thing before you leave,” Nick said, stopping her.

“I know that you had a bad dream, I know the look of one who has. I know that you blame yourself for what happened, but it was not your fault, no matter what words that boy used to try and convence you. Nobody owns your body except you, nobody can decide what you do with it except you.” He paused for a second, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “I know that you are asexual aromantic, and hope that you find a true friend who will respect your wishes, Michael is no man, he is a boy.”

“Thanks Nick,” Aimee whispered. “I thought we were going to have a simple cuddle session that night, I should have known, or researched romantic methods that people use on potential love interests, I should have known that him calling me babe was him flirting with me, and sending me a signal that he wanted romance.”

“But you didn’t know what his true motives were,” Nick replied. “That boy knew that your lack of knowledge on the subject was something he could take advantage of, so he did.”

“But I’ve known him sense I was five,” Aimee replied.

“Yes, but even long time friends can betray you if they have the desire to do so.” Nick’s voice grew firm. “It was not your fault, it was his alone for not treating you like a woman should be treated.” Aimee nodded.

“I really need to get going now, it is getting late,” she said.

“All right my friend, have a good night.” She smiled in the direction of his voice as she climbed down the porch steps, and made her way to her own house.  
Entering, she locked the door, and made her way to her bed where she quickly fell asleep.

The next morning, she made herself a quick breakfast of cereal, and began packing for her trip. Well, you managed to go to your neighbor’s house without panicking, she thought. Let’s see if you can manage going to the woods.  
She did her morning meditations, and said her daily prayers to Brahman, before grabbing her statue of Vishnu that was given to her by a Hindu priest. Her favorite camping spot was a glade set near a field of wild flowers. There were plenty of trees, and a fast running stream as well. All she needed to do was bring some food, and a sleeping bag.  
Once she was done, she went to her pantry to grab some canned veggies.  
Being a blind woman, she had to label everything. She used different numbers of rubber bands for what she had.  
Corn had one rubber band, green beans had two, and carrots had three.  
She grabbed two cans of these, along with some velveeta and shells macaroni and cheese. She paused at the oreos and gold fish crackers. She decided to leave them behind, not knowing that she would soon regret the decision later on, they were her favorite snack foods.  
She grabbed her induction cooker, along with several bottles of water, a small pan for cooking, and a strainer before heading out the door. I am glad my extension cord is solar powered, she thought, closing and locking the door behind her. Oh crap, I forgot my cane. She unlocked the door, reached inside, and grabbed her cane which was leaning in the corner.  
Once that was done, she turned from her house, waving goodbye.

Aimee made her way towards the woods, the sounds of distant traffic reaching her ears. The wonderful sound of bird song replaced the sounds of town life as she entered the woods. The temperature grew cooler as she walked towards her favorite spot.  
Nick had told her once that there were some standing stones just off the path. She decided to check them out when she set up camp. She wondered if it was a burial ground of some sort. Maybe a tribe of Indians buried their dead here. She made sure to keep the stream to her left as she made her way to her favorite oak tree. This would mark the entrance to her camping spot.  
Her cane tapped the trunk as she approached.  
Aimee stopped at the tree, and unpacked her gear. Now to look for those stones, she thought, setting down her cooker.  
She grabbed a bottle of water to take with her, and set off. There was a long row of trees that marked her path. She started off, humming a song under her breath.  
The ground grew steeper as she walked down hill, so she walked more slowly, not wanting to slip and go crashing towards the bottom. Dry pine needles crunched under her boots as she walked along. The snapping of a branch to her right made her freeze.  
It was followed by the sound of galloping hooves. It is probably a deer, there are plenty of those in these woods, she said to herself. The creature seemed to pay her no mind as it raced past her.  
Once the animal was gone, she resumed her walk. The ground was getting flatter now, making it easier for her. She kept the row of trees to her left, tapping each one with her cane to keep her on track. She smiled at the birds that were nested there, their song filling her ears. The standing stones would be just beyond the tree line.

"All you have to do is reach to your left with that stick of yours, and look for stone at the end of the tree line," Nick had told her. "You only need to walk ten steps beyond the line to reach it. I declare, these woods were made for a blind camper." Aimee smiled as she remembered his rich laughter afterwards and his deep baritone as he launched into a blues song.  
Nick was well into his eighties, but his voice didn't show it. He was born and raised in Alabama, and had many stories to tell.  
The stories she loved most were the marches he went on with Dr. King.

"Dr. King was passionate about what he believed in, and he didn't give up," he would constantly say to her.

She was brought from her thoughts as her cane hit the first stone. A strange buzzing sound was issuing from the one across from her.  
She cocked her head, frowning at the sound. Was it bees? She wasn't certain. Carefully, she walked towards the stone, listening hard.  
The pitch was a bit higher than a bee. Her cane touched the buzzing stone, and everything changed.  
A horrible queasiness filled her stomach as she was lifted off the ground. She screamed as she tried to pull her cane from the stone, but it was stuck there like a super magnet. It shook in her hand as the sickening feeling of falling overcame her, her lunch churning in her stomach.  
She could barely hear her continued screams over the loud roar in her ears. Oh Vishnu save me, she thought, closing her eyes against the nausea that threatened to overtake her.  
Her heart pounded in her chest, breaths short and shallow as she prayed to Brahman, Vishnu, Parvati, and whomever else from her faith she could think of.  
She slammed to the ground hard, skinning her knees. She slowly sat up, breathing deep to combat the dizzy spell that wanted to wash over her. She felt around for her cane, crawling on shaking and wobbling knees. She found it a couple inches away, and grasped onto it, using it to climb to her feet.  
Why am I on a hill? She thought, noticing the slope downwards. Where the hell am I?  
Aimee walked down the hill, ears strained for any unfamiliar sound. All she could hear was the wind whispering through the trees.  
A loud bang from what sounded like a gun made her jump. This was followed by a man's voice. It was urgent, and was spoken in a language she had never heard before.

"Om Namah Shivaya," she whimpered as she sprinted in the opposite direction of the gun, her whole body tense, ready for anything to attack her.  
Soon the shouting of the men faded, until only their distant echoes remained. Aimee shivered as she continued to run, those echoes sounded eerie.  
She ran even faster as .another gun blast sounded from behind her. She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming as the bullet, or cannon ball sped past, ruffling her hair, and slamming into a tree with a loud thud. She tripped over a tree root, landing hard on her hands. Gasping, she got to her feet, and stumbled on, the sound of running water reaching her ears.  
She headed towards it, hoping it would take her away from the gun fire.  
Her lungs burned as she gasped for air. She had never run so fast before, but she kept going. She did not like the sound of those guns, and wanted to get somewhere relatively safe so she could figure out where the heck she was. She kept on running, legs burning as much as her lungs, until she ran into a solid something. That something grabbed her shoulder to steady her.  
She tried to move away from the strong grip of the man, a bad vibe issuing from him. He seemed to be surrounded by a field of negative energy.

"Who are you?" she asked, giving him a tiny nod of thanks.

"I am Captain Jonathon Randall, Esquire and officer of his Majesty’s eighth dragoons." His Majesty? Aimee thought, what the bloody hell is this guy talking about?

"Well, thank you for saving me from falling into the river, but I must be going now–"

"What is a woman from The Americas doing all the way out here on her own?" Randall interrupted, grabbing her arm. Her body grew tense, readying itself to attack.

"That is none of your concern, now let me go," Aimee replied. She could feel his eyes on her, raking her body.

"I suggest you answer my question Madam," Randall's voice had a hard edge to it. Aimee wanted to back away from him, but he grabbed her, tossing her to the ground, looming over her.  
"My patience is running thin. But I have an idea from your clothing what you are, a whore who has run away from her brothel perhaps."

"Get off me you cock sucking bastard!" Aimee yelled, doing her best to fend him off. He let out a grunt as she elbowed him as hard as she could in the stomach. This seemed to piss him off even more. He began to take off her shorts, while she struggled to get away, wincing as the material was torn in places.

"Yes, only a whore would use such foul language," he snarled. Aimee struggled harder, biting down on his hand as he placed it onto her mouth to muffle her screams for help. She could taste his blood in her mouth as her sharp teeth sank into the soft part of the palm. No, No, not again, oh Vishnu, I cannot go through this again, she thought franticly, fear bubbling in her stomach like boiling water. She knew quite well that her punches and struggles to kick him had no effect. He seemed to be enjoying her panic from his soft chuckles.  
A cry reached their ears, along with something heavy leaping onto Randall's back. The cry was followed by a hard thwack, along with a thud as the heavy weight of her attacker was released from her. Aimee hoped the bastard was unconscious, but didn't want to wait around to find out.

"Come on, I will take you somewhere safe," her savior hissed at her.

“Where are you taking me?" she hissed back as he grabbed her hand, and pulled her along. Fighting against this man would be pointless, she knew that for certain. She could feel the muscles in his hand. All she could do was try to plan an escape route once he took her to wherever this supposed safe place was located.

"Not now," the man replied. He gave her a boost up into his saddle as he spoke, and quickly climbed behind her. She did not trust this man, but what choice did she have? She did not want to stay and deal with that Randall person, or any of the men who were firing guns. . She tried not to gag from the foul odors issuing from him. You really need a shower dude, she thought. The man clicked his tongue, causing the horse to start moving at a fast gallop.

They soon left the woods far behind them. There was not a car anywhere to be heard, only the horse's hooves, and the sound of the wind. . But why? Why was she on a horse, and not in a nice warm car? And why was her companion so tight lipped on their destination? She shook her head, not having any answers.

"Can I at least get your name?" Aimee asked her silent companion.

"Murtagh," he grunted, turning the horse to the right. His accent was certainly not American. It sounded Scottish to her.  
She forced down the panic that was bubbling up to the surface. That would not help her in her current situation. She had left her Iphone back at the house, thinking that she wouldn't need it do to the lack of reception in the woods.  
Escaping would be foolish at this point, she would get taken by Randall or his men, and her companion could easily track her down, she didn’t doubt that one for a second. He had easily found her and Randall after all. The only thing she could do at this point was bide her time.  
Where had those stones taken her? It had felt like transportation of some sort. It was rather strange not hearing cars zoom past them. Aimee snorted to herself.  
You are riding a horse for Vishnu's sake, she thought. But why? She had no idea, but hoped to find out soon.

Murtagh stopped the horse outside the stone cottage. He glanced at the woman in front of him.  
She wore a mistrustful look, her body was tense. Her eyes were wearry with a frightened look he had seen in animals he had hunted.  
When he put his hand on her arm to help her from the saddle, she flinched away.

“I am not going to harm you Mistress,’ he said. She gave him a disbelieving look, but allowed him to lead her towards the cottage.  
She coughed from the strong smell of smoke as they entered. Dougal MacKenzie turned from where he was conversing with Rupert, and gave Murtagh a sharp look.

“Who is this?” he asked in Gaelic.

“I don’t ken,” replied Murtagh. The group of men stopped their conversations, turning to stare at the stranger. She was standing awkwardly by the door, head turning at every sound, a look of fright entering her brown eyes.

“Where did you find her?” Dougal inquired, giving her a hard glance. She didn’t react to the stare. She must be blind then, Murtagh thought.  
Her movements indicated that theory, the careful way she walked, how she felt around for something to guide her along, her clumsy fighting style when she was fending off Randall, and that strange stick she used that told her of things in her path. He had silently followed her when he saw her appear on the hill. It had given him quite a fright, making him think of witches until he had seen the pure terror in her eyes.  
Something had told him that she wasn’t a witch. The fear was too real looking, too genuine to be considered an act.

“I found her near Craigh Na Dun,” he replied, leaving out her appearance, Dougal would either accuse her of witchcraft, or claim him mad.

“Who are you girl?” Dougal barked. The lass shook her head, her look of mistrust returning. Dougal let out an impatient growl and stalked towards her. She moved back just as quickly, hands balled into fists at her sides. Dougal whirled towards her, and grabbed her arms in a painful grip. Her wrists were tiny looking in his big hands; he could easily break them if he had the mind to do so.

“Let go of me,” she hissed. Dougal tightened his grip, which earned him a jab in the stomach from her knee. Angus, Rupert, and a couple of other men drew out their dirks, coming to stand between their chief and the woman.  
She bolted towards the door, ready to bolt out into the night, but Murtagh quickly stood between it and her.

“All he wants to know is your name,” Murtagh said impatiently, they did not have time for this, Jamie was in bad pain, and needed tending to. The woman glared at him.

“Why should I tell you anything, when you won’t even tell me where the bloody hell you have taken me? You said it would be safe, but I don’t call a man who grabs a woman by the arm, hard enough to bruise safe. Who does he think he is, assaulting an innocent woman? I’m not telling you anything until I get his name first.”

“I will not be ordered about by some insolent girl,” Dougal hissed, eyes flashing in anger. Murtagh sighed in annoyance as he glanced at his Godson who was watching this through pain filled eyes.

“This is Dougal MacKenzie, war chief of clan MacKenzie,” Murtagh began, ignoring the glare that Dougal sent him. “Now please, just give us your name. You don’t have to reveal anything else just yet.”

“My name is Aimee,” the lass said quietly. “Please, I just want to go back home.” The anger from earlier was completely gone now, fear and vulnerability was in her eyes as she blinked back tears.

“What was she doing near Craigh Na Dun? Evil spirits haunt that place the stories say,” Dougal said, glaring at the woman. Murtagh rubbed his throbbing temples with a thumb before speaking.

“She was having words with a certain Captain of Dragoons. He was accusing her of being a whore.”

“Oh, and what was the lady’s position in this matter?” Dougal’s tone was mocking. “Her clothing certainly looks like something a woman with low moral standards would wear.”

“I am not a whore you fucking__” Aimee began.

“We can put it to the test,” Rupert interrupted with accompanying high pitched laughter from Angus. Murtagh growled, and took a threatening step towards the pair of them. He did not like the horrified look that washed over Mistress Aimee’s face. He could see her backing towards the wall, breaths fast and shallow.

“I don’t hold with rape,” Dougal snapped. “We don’t have time for it anyways.”

“Dougal, I’ve no idea who she is, but I can bet my best shirt she is no whore,” Murtagh said. “We need to look at Jamie before we depart. I don’t like the looks of his shoulder.” Dougal nodded in agreement.  
Jamie smiled at them as they approached the back of the little room. Murtagh grimaced at the shoulder. It was out of joint, and they would need to force it back.  
Murtagh wished they had a healer present, but luck was not on their side this night. The men’s faces were grim as he told them of this development.

“Rupert, give me your whiskey,” Murtagh ordered. Rupert grunted as he thrust his flask into his hand.

“We will have to set the joint,” Rupert said grimly.   
Murtagh handed Jamie the whiskey. He smiled at his Godfather as he took a long swig.

“Um, don’t you have to put the bone back into place before setting the joint?” Murtagh jumped, not expecting Aimee’s quiet question.

“Do you know how to do that lass?” Murtagh inquired. He had never heard of such a thing before, but if it would help Jamie then he would try it.  
He couldn’t understand it, but something deep within him trusted her word. This confused him. Murtagh was one who did not trust easily, but he trusted her all the same.

“No,” she whispered, lowering her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it lass,” Murtagh soothed, not liking the sad look that appeared on her face. “I thank ye for wishing to help, but we shall have to go on what we know, and that is forcing the joint back in.”

“But that will break his arm,” Aimee replied, worry entering her eyes.

“Ah, don’t worry about me lassie,” said Jamie, attempting to sound cheerful through his pain. “I can manage, and will be fine before you know it.”

“Aye, so be quiet and mind your place woman,” Rupert growled. “Stay out of things that do not concern you.” Murtagh glared at Rupert as Aimee shrank away from him.

“I was only trying to help,” she muttered, gazing at the wall in front of her.

“Well it is not needed,” Rupert replied, ignoring Murtagh’s glare. Their focus returned to Jamie as they positioned themselves on either side of him.

“On three,” Murtagh murmured. Rupert counted while Murtagh positioned the arm.  
Jamie and Aimee let out soft cries at the loud crack. Murtagh gazed sadly at the broken arm. He wished that Aimee knew how to set the bone properly.

“That sounded painful,” the woman remarked.

“It isn’t too bad,” Jamie replied, lying through his teeth. “I will be fine in no time.” Murtagh and Aimee didn’t believe him.  
Aimee looked guilty, while Murtagh shook his head with a sigh.

“We need to get a move on,” Dougal’s rough voice commanded. “There are red coats coming this way. Murtagh, you are in charge of the woman.” Murtagh made his way over to her as Dougal spoke once more. “Eddie, you ride with Jamie, make sure he stays in the saddle.”

“Where are we going Murtagh?” Aimee asked, looking scared.

“To a place called Castle Leoch,” he replied. “Come now, I need to help you into the saddle.”   
“How do I know I can trust you?” Aimee inquired, wearry gaze traveling towards him.  
Murtagh took a step towards her, locking his eyes onto hers. The air tingled around them, making the hairs on the back of Murtagh’s neck stand on end.  
It felt different somehow, like something ancient and magical was in the room with them. Aimee took a step towards him as well.  
The strong energy around them increased as they moved towards one another.

“I vow that nothing shall harm you as long as you are with me,” said Murtagh, taking the final step. The air was heavy around them as their hands moved towards each other; Murtagh dimly heard the footsteps of the men as they filed from the cottage.

“All right, I can except that,” Aimee whispered as their hands met and clasped.  
The air pressed in around them as each of their free hands met and joined. They were glued to each other, neither could pull away. Murtagh grew up on the superstitions that were passed down from generation to generation. There were plenty of witches, changelings, and fairies in those tales.  
Something magical was going on, Murtagh could feel it. Normally, this would have made him back away and question what was happening, but something about this felt right, like it was meant to happen.

“You are right Murtagh, it is meant to happen,” the energy around them whispered, causing both of them to gasp.

“Who are you?” asked Aimee, her voice shaking slightly.

“I am the one who created the earth and the heavens,” the energy replied. “I wish to congratulate you both; you are now meeting the other part of you. I created you as one soul, but you got split into two bodies, which were born in different times. So, I had to wait until the right moment in both of your times to bring you together.  
It wasn’t just mere chance that you both decided to walk to your respective standing stones you know.”

“What do you mean we are one?” Murtagh inquired, giving the energy around them a confused glance.

“You are Murtagh, yet you are also Aimee as well. The same is for her as well; she is you, but herself at the same time. I need you to embrace one another,” said the energy.  
Murtagh and Aimee found they could release one another’s hands. They quickly hugged one another, letting their foreheads come together.

“Very good, now, I want you to match your breathing, and clear your minds of all thought,” the energy said. “Do not worry about the men waiting outside, Dougal will be getting impatient, but he will get over it, this will only take a few seconds more.”  
Murtagh had never tried meditation before, his mind felt so full of thoughts that he was skeptical that it would work. He pushed that part of himself aside, and concentrated on matching his breathing to Aimee’s slow rhythm.  
As his mind cleared, he began to feel an awareness of self that he had never felt before, he could feel each heartbeat more clearly, and was more aware of the blood that flowed through his veins. Gradually, he became aware of a second presence. It was faint at first, but it became stronger until it was equal to his.  
Aimee, he thought, reaching out to her. She leaned towards him as well. He excepted her, allowing her energy to fuse to his until they were one.  
Something was wrong with her energy. There was a feeling of darkness emanating from her, someone had hurt her deeply, and her energy was suffering because of it.  
He pulled the darkness towards him, watching as it melded with the rest. He vowed that he would help her be rid of it.  
He slowly opened his eyes in time to see a bright light surrounding their bodies. It shone for a second, eluminating the whole room before vanishing.

“I love to make dramatic exits,” the energy said, vanishing along with the light. “Good luck to you, I will be watching over you.” There was the faintest sound of laughter, followed by silence. They stood for a moment, letting everything sink in. They could access one another’s memories from childhood on up, they knew almost everything about one another. The dark memory from Aimee tried to join Murtagh’s half, but he pushed it away. He would not let it near him until Aimee was ready to show him. He felt her gratitude through the connection.

That was intense, Aimee’s mental voice was soft like her speaking one.  
Murtagh didn’t question this development, it felt completely normal, like it was meant to be.

Aye, it was, he agreed. So you grew up in an orphanage or the foster care system as you call it, Murtagh said. Aimee nodded.

A very nice couple adopted me; they were born in India, and brought me up as a Hindu.

I am glad.

“Come Lass, let us get going, Dougal is waiting for us.” Aimee nodded, allowing him to lead her from the cottage.

Murtagh threw his plaid over his shivering counterpart, and drew her towards him. She sighed mentally and out loud with pleasure as her shivering ceased.  
He found himself enjoying her soft touch as she leant against him for further warmth.

“Try and get some sleep lass,” he said, watching as she blinked, trying to stay awake. “We have a long night ahead of us before we reach the castle.”

“All right,” replied Aimee with a yawn.

So, I am in the year 1743 is that right?

Aye, you are, in Scotland. Aimee nodded, and closed her eyes.  
Murtagh gave her a tiny smile, watching her soft face out of the corner of his eye. She looked younger than she was, about seventeen, but she was twenty-eight.

I might be having a bad dream, she warned. About recent events.

Don’t worry; I will be here if you do. Aimee nodded as sleep claimed her.

“Well, it looks like you have found a female companion Murtagh,” said Rupert. ‘I’d never thought I would see the day when that would happen.” Murtagh gave him a cold glare as he looked at her body.

“Do not even think of going there,” he hissed. “Go and find some other woman to pleasure yourself with.” He pulled his plaid more securely over her to hide her from Rupert’s gaze.  
The thought of any man touching her made him furious.

“I see that you want to grind her corn first,” replied Rupert.

“No I do not,” snapped Murtagh. “Now that will be all on the matter.” Rupert shut his mouth and rode towards the front to speak to Dougal. Murtagh was rather glad to see him go.  
Murtagh began to grow a little hungry, so he rummaged through his bag until he found the box of cookies. He opened it, and took one.  
It was a very good snack. The dark chocolate was a nice contrast to the sweet dough.

“Can I have one of those?” Jamie asked.

“No you may not,” Murtagh replied, giving him a stern glance. “These are Mistress Aimee’s.”

“Oh come now,” Jamie replied, giving him his best dough eyed look, Murtagh scowled, trying to resist that look. His Mother Ellen wore the same look when she wanted something from her parents.

“Fine, you may have one,” Murtagh replied, falling for it as usual. Jamie grinned, helping himself to one of the soft treats.

“Oy, what about me,” Eddie wheedled, grinning at Jamie. Jamie grinned back, and split the cookie in half. Eddie nodded, and took a bite. A grin spread across his plump face as he chewed.

“She must come from a rich family,” Jamie mused through a mouthful of cookie. “This tasts like high quality chocolate.”  
Murtagh knew from Aimee’s memories that her family had been poor, and could not afford such nice chocolate. She had been fortunate enough to have a neighbor who could.

“Aye, it seems that she does,” he replied, putting the box back into his bag.

Aimee awoke as they drew towards the castle. She couldn’t remember where she was for a second, and grew fearful.  
Murtagh soothed her panicky thoughts as they entered the courtyard. A babble of voices greeted their shared hearing, along with the bleating of sheep.

You are safe, Murtagh whispered. We are at Castle Leoch now, nothing will harm you, I promise Aimee’s body relaxed slightly from her tense posture but her fear did not leave her. Murtagh could feel it coursing through her.  
He gently coaxed her from the saddle, handing over her cane as he did so. Mrs. Fitz came bustling towards them, a wide smile on her face.  
She greeted them all with the enticing promise of breakfast.

“Murtagh, you look and smell like a rat that has been dragged through sheep dung,” she greeted. They could hear the angry tones of Old Alec as he scolded Rupert for the mistreatment of his mount.

‘Well, give us a kiss then,” he replied, leaning towards her. She laughed at this display, batting him away.

“I would like you to meet Mistress Aimee,” he said, growing serious once more.  
“I found her in a moment of difficulty and rescued her, Dougal wanted to bring her along, so we did.” Mrs. Fitz wore a look of pity as she looked at Aimee’s exhausted face, and torn clothing.

“You poor dear, come on. Breakfast and a good clean up applies to ye as well, you look exhausted.” Aimee grimaced at the poor dear remark, but dutifully followed her.

“Did I cause offense?” Mrs. Fitz asked as they entered the castle. She was a sharp woman who noticed things right away. You had to if you were the head chef and house keeper.

“I just don’t like pity is all,” replied Aimee. She and Himself will get along well on that account, Murtagh thought.

Who on earth is Himself?

“Not that I am not grateful for the offer of food and a good sleep,” she added.

He is The Laird of this castle, ye shall meet him later on I suspect. Aimee gave Murtagh a mental nod.

“Well Mistress, I can fix those things right away. What do you like to eat?”

“Just about anything,” Aimee replied. “I am a vegetarian though.”

“What is that?” Mrs. Fitz asked.

“That is a person who doesn’t eat meat,” Aimee explained as they entered the corridor to the kitchens. “I am a Hindu, so I do not eat meat in the belief that it minimizes harm to others. Though it is not a requirement for us to be vegetarian.”

“I see,” Mrs. Fitz said. “Well then, I will leave you to go and get some breakfast. I don’t like the look of Jamie’s arm, so I will be tending to it, and will join you shortly.” Murtagh and Aimee nodded, listening to her footsteps fade into the distance.

“Come on, let us get some food,” Murtagh said as she grabbed his arm.

“Food does sound good,” she replied, walking with him into the kitchens.

“Will porridge do?” he asked as they walked towards a big cauldron full.

“Yeah, it is my favorite breakfast,” Aimee replied with a smile.  
Murtagh quickly grabbed two bowls and scooped the hot oats into them. He then took her to a table in the corner, grabbing a pair of spoons along the way.  
He pulled out her chair, and sat beside her with his own bowl. A maid rushed over with a tea service on a tray. She silently set it in front of them before she stared at Aimee.  
Murtagh gave her a hard look. He grew offended by the way she was staring down her nose at Aimee’s less than appropriate attire. It was none of her concern.  
She scowled at the flash that entered his black eyes before flouncing away. He murmured to himself in Gaelic as he poured out the tea, setting a gold trimmed cup in front of Aimee.  
They ate their porridge in silence, letting their thoughts mingle. Neither of them noticed they were eating in synchronization.  
Once they were done eating, Murtagh handed their boles and spoons to a maid, and resumed his seat.  
There was plenty of tea left in the pot, so he set aside his cup, and moved closer to her so they could share.  
He poured out the tea and frowned. They each liked their tea differently.  
Aimee liked sugar and cream in hers, while he only liked a small bit of cream.  
They decided to alternate preferences with each cup.  
Murtagh stirred in the cream and took the first sip. He stopped when he saw the startled look on Aimee’s face.

What is it?

I could taste that. Murtagh grew startled at this as well. He handed her the cup. She hummed to herself as she took a sip of the drink.

I can taste that as well, and I ken that you are the one drinking it. I can feel it going down my gullet, Murtagh informed her as she swallowed.

Well, it is a good thing we decided to eat the same thing, imagine what would happen if we both ate something different at the same time, Aimee remarked, handing him the cup.

Aye, we will have to be careful so that won’t happen, Murtagh replied with a grimace. They passed the cup back and forth until it was empty.  
The sounds of clattering dishes reached their ears; a loud clang had them nearly dropping the cup. The louder than normal sound made them wince. Murtagh scowled, grumbling about clumsy maids as they both grabbed for the delicate china.

There are definitely things we will have to get used to, Aimee said, rubbing her head.  
Murtagh agreed with that thought as the louder than normal laughter and chatter of the women reached their shared hearing.

Let’s get out of here, this is going to make my head pound, snapped Murtagh. Aimee nodded in agreement as they got to their feet and began walking.  
They both gasped as they lurched forward, hitting the ground.

Don’t tell me we can feel one another’s movements as well, Murtagh snapped in frustration.  
HE gave some of the staring women a hostile glare, and pulled Aimee to her feet.

We need to tell somebody about this, maybe Jamie, Aimee said, tone a bit shaken. I’m sorry, if I hadn’t gone through the stones, you wouldn’t be forced to be like this.

Well I’m not, I like this connection that is between us, and I ken you do as well. We shall simply have to work on getting used to some things is all, Murtagh countered, taking her arm and leading her from the kitchens.  
I do agree that we must tell Jamie. He will be able to keep this quiet and perhaps assist us as we learn our way through this. But for now, let us get some sleep; we are both quite weary from our long night.

“Oh, there you two are, I was coming to fetch Miss Aimee. I have prepared some lodgings for her,” Mrs. Fitz said, walking towards them.

“How is Jamie?” Murtagh inquired.

“His arm is in a sling, and is on the mend,” replied Mrs. Fitz. Murtagh gave her a relieved smile.

“I can take Mistress Aimee,” offered Murtagh. He wasn’t quite ready to part from her yet.

“If you want to then go ahead,” Mrs. Fitz replied. “I need to check on Hamish, he is running a fever. Her room is across from yours Murtagh, so it will be easy to find.” She flashed him a grin.  
“Congratulations, you finally have yourself a neighbor.” Murtagh gave her a small smile in return.

“Aye, it seems that I do. Tell Hamish that I hope he gets to feeling better soon.” Mrs. Fitz nodded.

“Aye, that I shall do, Himself is rather worried. I told him it was just a small fever, but still, a parent has the right to worry and fuss over their Bairn when they are ill, I have done it plenty of times myself. I shall see you two later on, I suspect that Himself will wish to speak to you this eve Miss Aimee, I will help you get dressed in more appropriate attire when the time comes.”

“All right,” replied Aimee. Mrs. Fitz smiled at them before walking away.

You had better enjoy your shorts while you can lass, Murtagh remarked, turning left towards their chambers. Mrs. Fitz will have you in corsets and other ridiculous things of that sort.  
Murtagh sent her his sympathy as she let out an exasperated groan. He knew that she did not like dresses for the exposure that she felt when wearing them. A man could look up my skirt if he wanted to, she thought.

If it were up to me, you could wear whatever you felt like, I could personally care less, Murtagh said, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. But sometimes we have to kiss the royal ass to get what we need. I don’t even know if Jamie will be safe here or not. People love to gossip. It was Aimee’s turn to squeeze his hand in comfort.

Don’t worry, we will figure something out if he is ever in danger, she said. I am not going to leave you to sort all this out on your own, so don’t try to tell me otherwise. I probably won’t be much help, but I’ll do what I can.  
Murtagh felt a lump entering his throat. There were very few people he could trust who had Jamie’s best interest at heart. He felt that he could add her name to the very short list he could trust to help his Godson, it was there in those soft brown eyes.

Thank you Lass, he whispered. They had reached the corridor to their chambers by now, and were standing between them.

I wish you didn’t have to go, Aimee whispered.

So do I, Murtagh replied.  
“I will see you later,” Murtagh said, watching as she entered her room.  
He entered his own room, and closed the door. He went to the large bed, and pulled back the bed clothing. He heard Aimee doing the same.  
Murtagh had to remind himself that they were in separate rooms, it sounded like she was right beside him. They crawled into bed, wishing one another a good rest.


	2. Chapter two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of domestic violence. Please do not read this if you are easily triggered by such events. I am glad you are all enjoying this chapter, so, here is the next installment. Some characters will have alternate story lines.

“Come along, you must wake up now.” Aimee shot out of bed at the voice, nearly whacking her head against the headboard.

“Bloody buggering hell,” she snarled. She rubbed her eyes as she got to her feet. “What time is it?” she asked.

“It is five o’clock,’ Mrs. Fitz replied. “Himself wishes to speak to ye, and I must get you properly dressed. There is some broth by the fire for ye.” Aimee nodded, and made her way towards the fire. Mrs. Fitz handed her a steaming mug with a spoon. She took it gratefully, and began to eat.

“How is Hamish? You said that he was running a bit of a fever.”

“He is on the mend,’ Mrs. Fitz replied. “It doesn’t take him long to get rid of illness, it was kind of you to ask lass.” Aimee smiled, and gulped down the broth.

“That was very good Mrs. Fitz,” she said, setting down the wooden mug. “I love the spices in it, I like to cook myself.”

“Ah, well you can help out in the kitchens if you have the mind to?” Mrs. Fitz said, a cheerful note in her tone. “Come, let me get you into the corset and dress.”

Hello lass, Murtagh said. She could feel Murtagh’s awareness returning as he awoke.

Good evening to you as well, Aimee said as Mrs. Fitz helped her into her stalking, corset, and other fancy clothing. Aimee could hear Murtagh getting ready as well, he grumbled to himself as he looked for a missing shoe while Mrs. Fitz combed her short hair.

“Well now, you are as pretty as a,” Mrs. Fitz paused, looking for the right metaphor. “Ah, I’ll think of something later. Anyways, you are ready to be taken to himself. Don’t worry now, Colum is a good and fare man,” Mrs. Fitz continued, spotting the nervous look on her face.  
“I ken that he will do right by ye, as long as you tell him the lord’s own truth.” Aimee nodded. I’ll believe it when I see it, Aimee thought, repressing a sigh of annoyance at the unnecicary length of her dress.  
She wouldn’t be surprised if she tripped over the damn thing.

“Thank you Mrs. Fitz,” she replied.

Your shoe is under the dresser, you put it there before we took our naps.

Thank ye lass, She felt his relief as he located the shoe, and rammed it onto his feet. I’m on my way to take you to see Laird Colum.  
She could hear his soft tread as he left his room, and walked the short distance to hers. He wrapped on the door three short knocks. Mrs. Fitz went to answer it.

“I was glad that I woke ye long enough to tell ye the time to fetch her,” she greeted as he entered.

“Aye, let us go now lass, you do not want to keep him waiting,” Murtagh replied. “He has quite the temper when people are not on time.”

“Indeed he does,’ Mrs. Fitz said in agreement. “I remember one time when Dougal was intoxicated, and was late for an important meeting.” Aimee lead the way from the room, closing the door behind her as Mrs. Fitz spoke. “Well, I was bringing some tonic for Colum’s head, and could hear him shouting as I neared the stairs. When I entered the room, his face was as red as a carrot.”

“I bet Dougal regretted that mistake,” Aimee replied with a laugh.

“Aye, he certainly did lass. Now I must go to check on Hamish once more. I shall see the both of ye at dinner this eve?”

“Aye, you will,’ Murtagh replied. Mrs. Fitz bade them farewell as they reached the end of the corridor.  
Aimee breathed slowly as she placed a hand over her stomach. She wanted to keep her emotions calm for the growing child inside.  
She stopped dead, clutching Murtagh’s arm. She was back in the 18th century. This was a period where ultrasounds and modern medicine didn’t exist. Women died of child birth quite frequently in this time due to poor medical knowledge of healers, and ignorant choices on the part of the Mother like drinking of alcohol.  
She wouldn’t be able to hear her child’s heartbeat in the womb, or know how the baby was processing through the descriptions from her doctor during the ultrasound tests. She began to shake slightly as fear flooded her.  
Who would be her doctor now? Who would support her during delivery? How in Vishnu’s name would she deal without good pain medicine, and what if people didn’t know how to do a C section?  
Thousands of what ifs went flying through her head as she stood there, frozen to the spot.

Hey now, don’t fret so, Murtagh whispered, placing a gentle hand on her shoulders as tears slid down her cheeks. You told me that you would help me sort out Jamie’s troubles, and I am going to help you as well, I don’t care how you got pregnant, I am going to help you through it, even if I have to deliver it myself.

Please, don’t ask me how the child was conceived, it isn’t because I don’t trust you, I’m just not ready yet. Also, you don’t know how to deliver a baby. Aimee replied, enjoying the gentle motions of his hands rubbing her shoulders.

No, but there are women around here who will assist me in doing so. I am hoping that this castle will get a good healer before your time. You are two months along is that right?

Yes, that is right. I thank you for the help Murtagh, it has been a long time sense I have trusted any man, besides my friend Nick, but I do. I am tired of avoiding making friends because of my fear. I want to go out in public again without being afraid as well.

You will, Murtagh said, taking her arm, and leading her down the hallway once more. It will simply take some time. The first step is to talk to some men, get to know them a bit. I am not saying it will be easy, but it is a good start at least.

I don’t know how I can trust Jamie so easily, but I do, maybe it is because of all your memories of him as a lad. Aimee replied.

Aye, that in part may be the reason, but let me confirm that. Jamie will not hurt you, he is a good lad with a good head on his shoulders. He promised me when he came of age that he would be tender with his reguard for women, treat them with love and respect, not hurt and abuse them. A quick memory flashed by, too quick for Aimee to make out.  
It must have been a sad one from the guilt and sadness she could feel from him.

Thank you for that confirmation, said Aimee as they began their walk up a flight of stairs. They made sure to walk in step so they wouldn’t fall down.

Do you know what my favorite memory of Jamie is? Aimee asked.

No, what? Murtagh asked.

The time when Jenny and Jamie were fighting, he insulted her, and she got so mad that she threw an entire pie at him.

Aye, Ellen, their Mother came in to find them in the middle of a huge food fight. She boxed their ears, and lectured them for an hour about not wasting food, Murtagh said, chuckling.

I don’t think I’ll ever memorize the layout of this place, Aimee said as they walked down what seemed to be the hundredth corridor.

You will in time, I will help you learn. There are plenty of landmarks to help you. Aimee smiled in the direction of his voice. We are approaching the stairs to his study anyways. Don’t worry, Murtagh said, noticing her alarm. Himself will not harm ye.

All right, I will try, replied Aimee, walking up the stairs.

“Wait here,” Murtagh said in his quiet and serious tone. He knocked on the door three sharp wraps with his knuckles.

“Come in,” the voice was gruff with a note of tiredness hidden within.

“Go on then,’ Murtagh encouraged, pushing her towards the door, causing her to flinch from his touch.

I’m sorry, Murtagh said. I should have warned you before doing that.

It’s all right, Aimee replied, touching the door knob. Aimee fought back her slight panic as Murtagh mentally wished her good luck.  
Aimee gave him a mental nod as she opened the door, and stepped into the room.

Colum turned from the parchment that he was scribbling on as the door opened. A rather young looking girl stood there, she looked about seventeen or eighteen. She looked rather uncomfortable in her long dress and corset, she seemed out of place in the outfit somehow, like she was not used to wearing such a thing.

“Well come in then,” he said gruffly. Her dark brown eyes widened slightly as she quickly walked inside. She didn’t even look at the room as she did so, most people who visited the first time were amazed at the riches displayed, but this girl didn’t seem to want to look.  
She wasn’t looking where she was going as she tripped over her long dress. Her eyes widened even more as she flailed about, reaching for something to grab onto. She lunged to her left as she attempted to disentangle herself from the dress, her arm knocked over a vase that sat on a table to her left.  
It rolled off, and fell to the ground with a loud smash which made her jump.

“Vishnu preserve me,” she gasped, bending down to scoop up the broken vase.

Colum got to his feet, and raced towards her as she began to gather up the pieces of broken yellow china. 

“Leave it,” he said. Her brown eyes were wide with fear as she turned towards him, dropping the china in her hand. Colum held out a hand to help her up but she didn't take it or even react to its presence. Sighing, he pulled his hand back and walked over to his desk, pulling out a chair and standing behind it. She got to her feet slowly and walked toward the chair. He gestured to the wooden seat, a universal—or so he thought—invitation to sit. The woman, however, stopped inches from the chair. Colum squinted at her, trying to see her more clearly, as if this would explain her strange ways. Dougal had described her as “an annoying creature.” Skittish, flinching at a man's touch, always turning her head at the slightest noise.  
Colum shrugged and ambled back behind his desk, taking his seat with a groan. At this, the woman sat as well, rigid as a board with her feet firmly on the ground and her back not touching the chair at all, ready to bolt at the slightest movement.

“I would like to welcome you, Mistress,” Colum began. “My name is Colum Ban Campbell MacKenzie, and I am Laird of this castle.” She gave him a small nod, still tense and silent.

“My brother and his men say that they found you in some apparent distress—”

“Apparent,” the woman interrupted. Her voice was quiet but much sharper than he had expected. “I was attacked, and nearly raped by a soldier, a man named Captain Jack Randall.”

“Captain Randall has a reputation to be sure, but he is a gentleman, an officer at that. You are telling me that a man bearing the King's commission decided to r*** a stray lady, wandering through the woods, for no good reason.” Colum raised himself in his chair in order to stare down at her from a greater height. His challenge had no effect, however, as the woman yet again refrained from responding, looking right past him to a spot on the stone wall.  
Interpreting her refusal to meet his gaze as a display of obstinacy, Colum opened his mouth to speak again, to show this woman that he was a man to be paid attention to, but stopped when he noticed the pallor washing over her face. Her breathing quickened and she rose suddenly as if lifted by the power of her own exhalations. 

“I'm sorry,” she stammered. “I need to leave.”

She rushed to the door but Colum called after her, “Mistress, please be seated.”  
This stopped her long enough for him to hobble over to the door, standing between it and her. Colum hoped he could hold her back if need be. She was small but he was not as stable as he would have liked and she looked just crazed enough to run him down.

“Let me out,” she said.

“Mistress—” Colum began but trailed off, unsure how to finish. He stared at the woman in front of him. She looked as if she were straining against an invisible force. She clearly wanted to move forward, move past him and out of the room, perhaps out of the castle. The air felt weighed down by her desperation. And yet, she couldn't move or at least wouldn't. Colum stepped forward to touch her arm and provide some comfort but as soon as the pads of his fingers brushed against her forearm, she jerked back.

“Michael, please,” she said.  
Colum took another step forward. “Mistress, my name is—”

“No!” she screamed. “I don't want to. Please. I don't want to!” She backed up slowly, her arms in front of her, stopping abruptly as she came up against the wall. Her eyes widened. She was shaking all over, her forehead damp with sweat as tears streamed down her face. She pushed her palms against the wall and lowered herself to the ground where she crumpled into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Don't touch me,” she yelled to the empty space in front of her, terror, grief, and anger emanating from her in equal amounts.  
Colum started to regret bringing her into his home. She was clearly having a fit of some kind. She may have even been possessed.

“Mistress, there is nobody named Michael here,” he said softly, not knowing what else to do. “Whatever you are seeing, it's not real. You are in my study in Castle Leoch.”  
She said nothing. Her face was now buried in her knees and hidden underneath her elbows which she had raised up protectively.

Colum opened the door and called out to one of his attendants. “Fetch me some tea from the kitchens.” The young man returned within minutes and, upon entering the room, stared at the woman on the floor as if she were an oddity he wanted to fully capture in order to tell his friends about later.

Noticing this, Colum barked an order. “Set the tray on the table. And get out.” Colum picked up the pot and poured tea into the two gold-trimmed cups in front of him. He set a cup on the floor in front of the woman, having learned by now that touching her only made her more agitated. “Mistress. I've set out tea for you. Whenever you're ready.”

Colum lowered himself into the chair the woman had vacated and began drinking his tea, waiting for her to say something. After several minutes, she emerged from her protective covering.

“Sir,” she whispered, reaching for the cup and holding it with both hands, still not looking at him.

“It's all right Madam,” Colum replied gently. "You are safe in Castle Leoch.” At this, she leaned forward, the first time she had made a movement toward him, rather than away from him.

“Safe,” she repeated, the edge of her first words back in her voice. “Could I really be safe with a man like you?”

“Mistress, have I offended you in some way?”

“You asked me why Captain Randall would rape a stray lady for no good reason.” She almost choked on the words. “As far as I'm concerned, there is never a good reason for rape. And trust me, I've heard plenty. Would you like to hear the reasons my best friend, Michael, offered me?” She was still shaking but now her hands were by her sides, clenched into fists. “The first reason was, I lead him on, the second was, he just loved me too much, and the third was, I didn't love him back. He was trying to help me become more adventurous. He had my best interests at heart. Besides, he knew I liked it more than I let on. Do any of those sound good to you?”

“Madam I—” Colum began.

“Those reasons might suffice in this year, whatever it is, but in my time things are different.” She paused. “Or, at least they should be.” Colum gripped the arms of the chair tightly.

“Your time?” he asked.

“Yes. I'm from 2016.” Now it was Colum's turn to back away. Leaning against the back of his chair, away from this strange, possibly dangerous woman, he asked. “What are you talking about? This is the year 1743.”

“When I woke up yesterday morning, it was 2016.”

“How is that possible?”

“I don't know,” she said, her voice pleading for an answer.  
Colum's eyes grew wide with the story she told. She had made herself go outside to look at some standing stones by her house, touched one, and disappeared, landing on Craig Na Dune.  
The story seemed to burst out of her like water through a crack in a damn. She looked half mad as she yanked at her short hair in agitation.

“Mrs. Fitz said that you were a fair man,” she said. “I'm telling you the truth, and having me burnt at the stake won't change that. I don't expect you to believe me, but there it is.”

“Aye, it is something to wrap my mind around,” replied Colum, shifting in his chair. 

“You must think I'm mad,” she said.

“No,” Colum replied. “The fact is, I have been Laird of this clan for twenty or so odd years, and I cannot blindly swallow every story I have been told, you ken. Perhaps if you stay for a bit, and tell me about where ye come from, I might be more inclined to believe you. Do you perhaps have anything that may prove your story to be true?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Just my words.”

“Aye, that is better than nothing. I truly am sorry for my poor choice of words earlier. You're right, of course. There is never a good reason for rape.”

“Thank you.”

“I would never want to cause such a fit.”

“It's called a flashback,” she corrected. “They can happen when people are triggered. It can be a word, a certain smell, a person with a similar voice or style of hair as the perpetrator. It happens to me all the time. I'm afraid to leave my house. I don't like large crowds. Or men.”

“If any man threatens to harm you, I wish for you to report it to me," said Colum. "I shall deal with him.”

“Thank you,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “I can't believe I told you all this. Will you promise me not to say anything about this to anybody? It won't leave this room?”

“I swear that nothing we have discussed this day shall leave this room," Colum replied. "You don't have to worry about that.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Now I just have one more question, if I may.” The woman nodded. “What is your name?”

“Aimee Jonson.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mistress Jonson.” They finished the pot of tea in silence.

Finally, Colum said, “Don't fuss yourself about that vase either. I was hoping to get rid of it to be honest. I can't stand the color yellow.” That was a lie of course, yellow was one of his favorite colors. But he didn’t want the lass to feel worse for breaking the vase.

“Well then lass, it is about dinner time. Do you wish to join me?” Colum asked.

“Yes, some food does sound rather nice,” Mistress Aimee replied. “You will have to guide me, I am blind you see.”

“Aye, that I shall do,” Colum replied. “Give me your hand.” Aimee did so, walking with him to the door.

“If I may ask, how old are you? You look about seventeen.”

“I get that all the time,” Mistress Aimee said with a small laugh. “I am actually twenty-eight.” Colum nodded as he lead her down the stairs, and into the corridor.

“You have nice hands,” she said. A blush appeared on her cheeks. “I’m sorry, that was rather forward of me,” she whispered.

“Nay Mistress, it was nice of you to say,” Colum replied. “Not many people complement me.”

“Well they are nice hands,” Mistress Aimee replied. “Does this castle have a healer?” 

“Unfortunately we do not, our healer, Davie Beaton died from fever last winter, and I have been looking for one ever since. Why do you ask?” Her face crumpled as she lowered her head.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Michael is the Father. I will need a healer to check on the progress of the baby.”  
Colum gave her hand a comforting squeeze as they walked towards the dining hall.

“Don’t worry, I shall continue my search for a healer. Meanwhile, what did your healer say for you to do?”

“Well, after the ultrasound, she told me that the baby was doing find, and that I should eat healthy, and not overdo it.”

“What on earth is an ultrasound?” Colum inquired.

“It is something from my time. It shows pictures of the baby in the womb, and you can even hear the heartbeat.”

“That sounds amazing,” replied Colum, leading her down some stairs.

“You won’t tell anyone will you? They’ll judge me,” the woman asked.

“Aye, I will not tell anybody, but people will ken when you start showing more,” Colum replied. “Try not to worry about it so lass, I know very well that Mrs. Fitz will help you if you decide to tell her. If they do start asking questions, then you have the right to tell them that it is none of their concern how the child was conceaved.” They began to hear chatter as they neared the dining hall.

“Thank you, sir,” Mistress Aimee replied.

“Think nothing of it, you are my guest after all. Now, here we are,” Colum said, leading her through the doors, and towards the high table.

“I can’t drink any alcohol,’ she mouthed. “It is not good for the baby.” Colum grunted his agreement, and pulled out her chair. She thanked him and took her seat.  
He followed suit to her left, his wife on his other side. Dougal scowled in annoyance when he saw their guest, but Colum flashed him a warning look over her head.

“Good evening Father,” Hamish said from across of him.

“Evening to you as well Hamish, I am glad to see you have made a good recovery. Mistress Aimee, I wish to present my wife Letitia, Letitia, this is Mistress Aimee Jonson, a lady from the Americas.”

“It is a pleasure to meet ye,” Letitia said, giving her a small smile.

“It is nice to meet you as well Miss,” Aimee replied, smiling in the direction of the older lady’s voice. She then began to feel around the table.

“What are you looking for,” Dougal asked, his tone quite annoyed. “You’ll knock things over.” Her face grew rather red as her hand jerked back from the wine decanter she nearly had her hands on.

“I was just exploring what is on the table,’ Aimee replied.

“Why do ye need to do that? You can see what is on it with your eyes can you not?” Dougal asked.

“No I can’t actually,” Aimee snapped back, a scowl of her own appearing on her face. “I am blind, so I like to familiarize what is around me. Is that wine or water in that container?”

“That is wine,’ Colum replied. “The water piture is to your left.”

“Thank you,” said Aimee. She grabbed it by the handle, and brought it to a drinking goblet.

“Let me pour that for you,” said Dougal.

“NO thank you, I can pour it myself,” said Aimee.

“But how? You cant see how full the glass is getting,” Hamish asked, blue eyes round and curious.

“I listen to the sound,” the woman explained. “If you listen yourself, you will find out.”   
Mistress Aimee replied. She began to pour. The sound slowly began to change as she poured, it grew higher.  
Once she was satisfied, she set down the piture.

“That is interesting,” Colum said. “Mrs. Fitz informed me that you don’t eat meat. Would you care for some roasted potatoes and carrots instead?”

“Yes, that does sound nice,” Mistress Aimee replied. Colum handed her the bowl, and watched as she scooped the food with the wooden spoon, and carefully set it onto the center of the plate.

“There is also bread and cheese as well,” Hamish said, passing her a platter of each. She smiled as she grabbed a handful of cheese, and a piece of bread.

“How in God’s name can you not eat meat?” asked a rather horrified Dougal.

“I am a Hindu,” replied Aimee. “So I do not eat meat because I don’t believe in killing animals for my food. For survival I suppose I would, but sense I have the option, I will go with eating the veggies. That is part of my goal towards Darma.”

“Darma?” Dougal echoed, an incredulous look appearing on his face. “It sounds like you are a heathen girl. Colum, I think that we should take her to Sunday Mass, have Father Bain give her communion, and hear her confessions.”

“I have read the bible Master MacKenzie,” the woman snarled through gritted teeth. I remember a quote from it quite well. It said, Judge not, lest ye be judged. It seems that you are not following your book’s teachings if you are judging me as a heathen. Maybe you need to pray to your God a bit more. I do not care if you eat meat, I am not going to judge you for that, I will also not judge your religious beliefs either. Frankly, the world would be a rather boring place if we all believed in the same things.” With that little speech, she began to eat.

“Did Mrs. Fitz give you good lodgings?” Colum asked.

“Yes she did. She is a wonderful woman,” Mistress Aimee replied.

“Aye, it is a wonder how she can bake banucs such as these with the poor ovens we have in the kitchens,” Letitia remarked, spearing some haring with her fork.

“Well, I must agree with you,” Mistress Aimee said. “She is a wonderful cook. The bread is soft and fluffy.” Dougal looked aghast as their guest proceeded to cram an entire roll in her mouth. The jaws rapidly chewed,and she quickly swallowed, grabbing another piece.

“Hey now, you won’t have enough room for pudding,” Hamish said with a laugh. Colum smiled at Mistress Aimee’s antics as she gulped down a goblet of water.

“I will only want a small slice,” she said, smiling in the direction of his son. What is your name by the way? I didn’t catch it.”

“My name is Hamish,” he replied.

‘It is very nice to meet you little man,” Mistress Aimee said with a grin. Colum smiled as a little grin appeared on Hamish’s face.  
The servants appeared, and quickly cleared the food, replacing it with the pudding.  
Colum slid a small saucer of it to his guest.

“Would you care for some tea or coffee with that?” he asked.

“Some coffee would be nice, and I like it black without cream and sugar.”

“Here you are,” Colum replied, quickly pouring a cup, and sliding it over to her. Colum chuckled as she quickly devoured the pudding.

‘Good lord, that was eaten in nearly a minute!” Dougal spluttered. “Not very lady like of ye.”

“I don’t care for your opinion on the matter,” Mistress Aimee replied, taking a sip of coffee. “Is there any more?”

“Aye,” Colum said, passing her a second saucer. She ate this one more slowly, enjoying each bite. “I shall have to inform Mrs. Fitz that you enjoy her blueberry pudding. She will be down right pleased.”

“Indeed she shall,” Letitia said. ‘That is one of her secret family recipes.” Aimee nodded as she quickly ate. When she was done, she set down her fork.

“Well, I think I will turn in now, that was a very good meal,” she said, getting to her feet.

‘A good night to you then Mistress, Hamish, if you are done, would you escort our guest to her room? It is across from Murtagh’s,” Colum said. Hamish nodded as he took Mistress Aimee’s arm, and lead her from the hall.

“I’ll never get used to the vastness of this place,” Aimee said as they walked up a flight of stairs, the noise of the hall fading from hearing.

“What sort of place do you live in Mistress?” inquired Hamish.

“It is a little one room house near the woods,” Aimee replied. “I had a nice flower garden out back.”

“That sounds like a bonnie we place,” Hamish replied. “My Mother is also fond of flowers.”

“Yes, they are nice,” Aimee replied. “I had a nice cat as well, she was one of my best friends.”

“What was her name?” asked Hamish.

“Her name was Nancy,” replied Aimee, fighting back tears. “I had her ever sense I was little.”

“I am sorry,” said Hamish. “She sounds like she was a nice wee cat.”

“She was,” Aimee said as they made their way down a corridor. “Her favorite toy was string. She would play with it for hours and hours.”

‘My Father is fond of birds, he has a cage full of them in his study,” Hamish replied.

“I noticed that, I could hear them singing away when I was speaking with him.”

“Aye, he has a lot of books as well; reading is one of his favorite things to do, along with playing piano.”

“Oh, that is very nice,” Aimee said, smiling in the boy’s direction. “I play piano myself.”

“May haps he will let you play his,” Hamish exclaimed. ‘I will ask him when I see him next.”

“Oh, I don’t want to bother him,” replied Aimee, glancing down at the ground.

Nonsense, Himself likes music, I am sure he would love to hear a fellow pianist, he might even wish to play with you, Aimee gave Murtagh a mental smile, as Hamish echoed his thoughts.

“Thank you Hamish,” Aimee said as they approached her and Murtagh’s corridor.

“You are welcome Mistress,” the boy replied. “Here you are, I shall see you tomorrow at breakfast.”

“You as well,” Aimee replied, turning left to enter her chamber. She waited until His footsteps faded in the distance before turning towards Murtagh’s room and knocking on the door.

“Come in,” Murtagh called. Aimee smiled and entered the room. She put her shoes next to his, and joined him on his large bed.

Come here, and let me show you how much I love you, Murtagh whispered. Aimeecrawled onto the bed, and laid down beside him.

Do you really love me?

Of course I love ye, Murtagh said. I am not going to let you fight this war alone. What that boy did to you was unforgivable, and if he ever comes through the stones, I shall take revenge, that is my word. No man shall ever do such a thing to ye again, not while I am around. You handled yourself very well at dinner tonight with Dougal. He carefully put his arm around her, and pulled her close.

What if I have another flash back? She whispered.

Then I shall be here to bring you back, I shall always be here.

You said that I wouldn’t have to fight this war alone, but I’m not a warrior.

Not all wars are fought with the sword. She lay her head onto his chest as he pulled her closer. They enjoyed the warmth and comfort of the other being there.

I wonder what it would be like to kiss you, Aimee said. I like to kiss all of my male friends. Touch is my love language.

Even the married ones? She felt Murtagh’s curiosity.

Some of them I still kiss, she replied. Their wives are fine with it. Other wives are not fine with it, so I don’t kiss those friends.

Have you kissed any of your female friends? Murtagh asked.

No, but I’ve always wanted to try it, I’ve been too shy to ask, and I don’t want to make them feel uncomfortable.  
Murtagh sent her a smile as he leaned in, their lips gently meeting.  
She giggled as his beard tickled her chin; Murtagh also chuckled as he nuzzled her neck, his hands gently massaging her shoulders.

That feels very nice, Aimee whispered. Murtagh replied by kissing her in return. He trailed from her lips to her cheeks, gently kissing each one.

I want to see you, he whispered.

But you can see me, Aimee replied.

Aye, but I want to see you the way you see. Aimee smiled at him in understanding.

Well close your eyes then and look, she whispered.  
He must of done so, for she then felt his rough hands as they gently caressed her face. He started with her hair, slowly feeling of the silky softness, she had never paid as much attention to it as he was doing.  
She could feel it as he grabbed each section in his hands, moving each finger through it, his mind noting the soft texture, and length.  
She felt his love for her hair as he slowly moved around her head, gently touching and parting it for her.  
Once his inspection of her hair was complete, he moved to her ears.

My ears feel so soft in your hands, I have never really noticed it before when I touch them, she said as his fingers gently touched.

Aye, and they are beautiful, just like your hair. She smiled as he moved on to her cheeks, feeling his admiration for the smooth skin.  
From the cheeks, he moved to the chin, trailing up to her lips, and then to her short nose, and on to her forehead. She felt his Appreciation and love for each of these as he trailed from her forehead, down her nose, to her lips, onto her chin, her jaw, and finally down to her neck.

Can I see the rest of ye? Your shoulders, stomach, and back? Aimee nodded.  
He moved to the back, and carefully untied her dress.

If you wish for me to stop at any time, tell me, and I shall do so. Aimee nodded.  
Her dress pooled around her ankles as he gently laid her on her stomach, and began to touch the back of her neck, making his way to her shoulder blades.  
She felt the silkiness of her skin, as well as the roughness of his hand as it moved up and down.  
It was interesting, feeling both points of view at the same time, they seemed to blur until she couldn’t tell who was feeling what.

“Can I feel your back?” This was the first time he had spoken aloud since her arrival. His voice was husky with a slight tremor.

“Go ahead,” she replied. He quickly complied, massaging each part as he did so.

Time seemed to slow as he made his way down her spine. He turned her onto her back and touched her hips and stomach. He placed a gentle kiss where the child was growing, and pulled her close.

Oh lass, if only you could see yourself the way I see you right now, she let out a soft whimper as his love threatened to engulf her. It had been a long time since she had felt like a whole woman. Before coming here, she was surviving for the sake of the unborn child.  
She felt her own love for him rise up inside her. They cried out softly as their love engulfed them.  
Once they had calmed, Murtagh retied her dress.

“Go to your chambers and get your night gown, come back here once you have it,” he said, giving her one last kiss. Aimee nodded, and left the room.  
She was soon back, wearing a silk night gown.

I had Mrs. Fitz put your things in your room for ye. She climbed into bed, and snuggled in his embrace.

What if people find out? There will be rumors if they do, Murtagh snorted.

I could care less about those gossipy people, but I do agree, we shall have to be careful, He kissed the tip of her nose.

I love you, she whispered, drifting into a deep sleep.

I love you as well.

Glenna Fitzgibbons hummed to herself as she walked towards Murtagh and Aimee’s corridor.  
She crept towards his door, and gently opened it. Entering, she grabbed some wood from the box by the door, and stacked it on the dwindling fire. Spreading her hands wide, she whispered a spell in the tongue of the fairies, and watched as the fire leapt to life.  
She came from a long line of fairy folk, dating back before Christ, and passing from Mother to Daughter. She was sadly the last of her line; only having one son. The fairy magic did not pass on to him, nor her granddaughter.  
Her sister didn’t share in the magic either, but always enjoyed watching her learn fairy magic from their mother.  
She smiled down at her nephew and his other half, she was quite happy that his soul was finally whole. She had seen the bright glow around him and Aimee as they neared the castle, and knew that her long prayers had been answered.  
As a fairy, she had the ability to see a person’s soul light, as well as their aura.  
Murtagh’s light had been dim ever since she had first laid eyes on him, but now it was bright and beautiful, but with a bit of darkness from Miss Aimee’s end. She checked to see that they were both sleeping peacefully, and left the room, closing the door behind her.


	3. Chapter three

Murtagh woke before dawn, knowing he would have to get Aimee back to her room before the maids lit her fire. Before he could wake her, she sat up with a groan, and put her hand over her mouth.  
Murtagh sprang to his feet, holding back his own groan at the strong nausea he could feel from her. He grabbed the chamber pot, and handed it to her. He grimaced at the foul taste as she emptied her stomach.

“That’s better,” she whispered. “I will be glad when this stage of the pregnancy is over.” So will I, Murtagh thought, grimacing.

“Just wait,” Aimee said. “I’ll be as big as a whale before too long.” Murtagh wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed noisily into his chest.  
He whispered soothing words in Gaelic as she sobbed, letting out some of the fear she had been harboring.

“You will be beautiful even when you are plump from carrying the child,” Murtagh said. “Now let me get you to your room so you can get dressed. Then you can rest for a bit before breakfast.”

She nodded, allowing him to lead her from the room. Once she was settled, he went to check on Jamie.  
He found him sprawled on his bed, his bright hair fanned out on the pillow as he snored. Murtagh pushed back a strand of red hair, and kissed his forehead. He would need to speak to Colum about his safety. May haps if they hid him away somewhere he would be safe from gossip. He sighed as he turned towards the door. Being Jamie’s godfather was hard when he was in his teens and getting himself into trouble, but now it seemed more so. How on earth was he to get the price removed from his head? He did not ken.  
Murtagh put the problem from his mind for now; he had a surprise breakfast for Aimee he needed to prepare.  
He gazed sadly at the broken arm in its sling before he took his leave.

The kitchens were bustling with activity when he entered. The sounds of loud laughter and voices made him grimace. The noise stopped when he entered, everything was silent except for the sounds of crackling fire, and boiling water.

‘Oy, what are ye all staring at, I need a stove,” he barked, glaring at them. He hated it when people stared at him; it brought back memories of being laughed at for his ratty face as a wee bairn.  
Laeoghaire, a girl with looks, but not much brain stepped forward, and lead him towards a stove in the corner.  
He was about to thank her, but her next words stopped him.

“Cooking is woman’s work.” Murtagh’s eyes flashed at her words. Some of the other women nodded in agreement.

“Get back to your duties, and never you mind what I am doing,” Murtagh replied, glaring at the silent women.

“Aye, you heard him,” Mrs. Fitz snapped. “Himself is not feeling well, he is asking for some tea and porridge.”

“I am fixing to make some for Mistress Aimee,” Murtagh replied. “I shall make some for both of them. She is also unwell.”

“What is the matter with her?” Mrs. Fitz inquired, a look of concern flitting across her face.

“Oh, just a bit of stomach troubles, nothing that tea and porridge won’t cure. What is wrong with Colum?”

“His legs are paining him,” Mrs. Fitz replied.

“Well, Mistress Aimee was trained in massage, may haps she could give him one after she has eaten,” Murtagh said.

“How do you ken that?” Mrs. Fitz inquired, a note of interest entering her voice.

“She told me so last night when we were taking a walk,” Murtagh muttered. Mrs. Fitz looked like she didn’t believe him, but decided to drop the subject.

“He could certainly use the company, and they seemed to get along together at the dinner table. She did a good job with handling Dougal that is for certain.” Mrs. Fitz was kneading some bread dough as she spoke. “Goodness knows that man needs to shrink his head a wee bit, I think it is too big for his body at times, I think it is to compensate the lack of brains in there.”  
Murtagh let out a cough to hide his snort of laughter. It was well known round the castle that Dougal and Mrs. Fitz did not get along.

“Aye,” Murtagh grunted, watching as the water for his porridge began to boil. He rummaged through the cupboard until he found a large bag of oats.  
He measured out enough for two or three, and added it to the rapidly boiling water. Mrs. Fitz handed him a spurtle.

“Don’t forget to stir it clock wise, or else the devil will come to nab ye,’ she said. Murtagh snorted. He had stirred his porridge in a figure eight pattern ever sense he had learned to cook, and he wouldn’t stop now because of some silly superstition.

“I have never stirred my porridge clock wise, and the .devil has not kidnapped me yet,” Murtagh replied, adding a pinch of salt. “Are you sure that is how the legend goes?” Mrs. Fitz shrugged.

“I don’t ken the right wording for it, but that is the general theory,” she replied, putting the bread dough into the oven.  
Murtagh muttered under his breath about silly superstitions while he stirred.  
Why on earth did women talk so damn much? He thought, scowling at the never ending stream of chatter. The current topic was the mysterious woman that had come to the castle, who she was and what she was doing in Scotland.  
The theories ranged from an English spy, to witch craft. Why couldn’t women mind their own concerns? It amazed Murtagh what ridiculous things women could come up with during their sessions.  
One of the things he had loved most about Ellen, was that she was not a gossip. She was a strong willed woman who kept to herself.  
While the porridge simmered, Murtagh set about making some tea. Ellen had taught him how to cook. One of her lessons was on how to time everything, so it would all be done at nearly the same time.  
She had been the daughter of the Laird, but that didn’t stop her from learning how to cook, much to the disapproval of her mother.

“You are a noble woman,” she had said to her. “We have servants to do all the cooking for ye, it is not proper for a laird’s daughter to learn such a task.” Mrs. Fitz had taken her under her wing, teaching her all she knew about cooking.  
In turn, she had passed that knowledge onto him.

“Murtagh, your tea is whistling,” Mrs. Fitz called. Scowling, he removed the tea from the fire, and franticly checked the porridge. It was at the perfect consistency.  
He poured the water over the tea leaves so it could steep, while he served the porridge into a pair of wooden bowls.

I feel a lot better, Aimee announced as she woke up.

I am glad lass, Murtagh said. Are you up to seeing Colum? He isn’t feeling well himself, and I thought it would cheer him up a wee bit if you did so.

Yeah, I wouldn’t mind. I will see you in a few minutes.  
Murtagh put everything onto a tray, and left the kitchens. Once she was dressed, Aimee met him at the entrance to their corridor, and walked with him to Colum’s study.  
He bade them enter as they knocked.

“Murtagh, Mistress Jonson,” he greeted as they entered. “What can I do for you this morning?”

“The lass brought you breakfast,” said Murtagh, setting the tray on a nearby table. “I thought you could use the company.”

“Aye, she is welcome to join me,” Colum replied. Murtagh lead Aimee to her chair, and pulled it out for her.

“I shall leave you to it,” he said. He gave Colum a quick bow before leaving the room.

Aimee adjusted her dress, sat down, and took a bite of her porridge. It was quite creamy, just the way she liked it.

“How are you this morning?” Colum asked. “You look like you had a rough start to the day.”

“Yeah, morning sickness,” replied Aimee. “I felt better after I rested a bit.”

“Aye, that is understandable. My wife had it herself when she was pregnant with wee Hamish,” Colum replied. “She said that ginger helped with the nausea.”

I am going back to bed for another hour or so, if you need me lass, you ken how to reach me.

All right Murtagh, have a good sleep. Aimee and Colum ate their porridge in silence, listening to the birds in their cage as they chattered away.

“I am curious to know, where did you live before coming here?” Colum asked, breaking the silence.

“I lived in West Virginia, but I was born and raised in Brookland New York. My former friend wanted to live in the south for some reason, so we moved there after graduating college.”

“I am assuming that you didn’t wish to live in Virginia am I correct?” inquired Colum.

“Yes,” replied Aimee. “I missed New York, my parents live there; they work in an Indian restaurant. I miss being close to them, and the sites and my old friends from the city.”

“Restaurant, did you mean to say inn?” Colum asked.

“Restaurants don’t have beds to sleep in like inns do; they are just places where families go to eat when they don’t feel like cooking.”

“I see,” replied Colum. Sadness enveloped Aimee as the realization hit her, she might never taste her Mother’s chutney again, and it was a crowd favorite at the restaurant.  
She doubted that Scotland had the ingredients and spices for such a meal. She longed to read one of her books. I’ll never be able to read Harry Potter or any Stephen King book ever again.  
Reading was one of her passions. Aimee had taken it for granted, always believing that Braille would be there for her.  
The idea of never running her fingers over those rough dots made her ache inside. Hell, she would gladly read a boring high school history book, just so she could slowly turn the pages. Sadly, Braille had not been invented yet, it wouldn’t be until the 19th century.

“You also told me that you don’t like crowds,” Colum said, bringing her out of her gloomy thoughts.

“That has only happened recently, sense it happened,” whispered Aimee. ‘I was a very social person before. My friends would always joke that I never quit talking. I wanted to move back so I could face my fears. I was living in Virginia long enough to save up enough money so I could move back. I love the woods, and was going on a little camping trip before I touched the stone, but it is people I love more. A mile out of town is too far for my comfort.

“Women in this time are not encouraged to live on their own. They are encouraged to marry and rays children,” said Colum. Aimee could hear him shifting about in his chair.

“Things are different in 2016,” she replied. “Women can work just about any job that a man can, and women have the choice to get married or not.”

“What was your line of work then? You told me that you went to college,” Colum said.

“Yes, I did, I majored in massage therapy. I graduated with my degree, and began working as a masseuse. I am also a song writer, and performer on the side.” Aimee grabbed the teapot, and poured herself a second cup. She didn’t have her liquid level indicator with her, a device that beeped when a glass was full, so she had to feel for when the cup got warmer near the top.  
This took careful concentration, at least for her, she had been talking while she poured, and wasn’t paying attention as much.  
She managed to keep the teapot in her hand as warm liquid spilled onto her wrist. She sat the teapot on the desk, and began feeling around for a napkin. She felt warm liquid under her hand. Wonderful, I got it on the desk as well, she thought.

“What are you looking for?” asked Colum.

“A napkin or a cloth,” replied Aimee. “I over poured and spilled a bit of tea.”

“Here you are,” Colum said. Aimee felt the smoothness of the cloth as she accepted it.  
She cleaned off her wrist, and the tea that had been spilled on the table.

“Gwyllyn the Bard will be pleased to hear of a fellow musician,” replied Colum, taking back the cloth. “Hamish informed me that you play the piano. May haps you would like to play for me one of these days.”

“Thank you, I would like that,” Aimee said, taking a drink of her tea.

“I was also going to ask you what you wished to do to occupy your time, but I already know. If you wish to, you can perform with Gwyllyn.”

“I don’t want to mess up his schedule,” Aimee muttered.

“Nonsense,” Colum countered. “He would be glad to have someone to perform with.”

“All right, I would like to meet with him,” Aimee replied, taking a final sip of tea, and setting down her teacup.

“I will arrange a meeting for you.” Aimee nodded. “Would you like some more tea?”

“Yes I would, thank you Colum, I mean sir,” Aimee muttered. “Sorry, I’m not used to being so formal with people.” Aimee shifted in her own chair, hating the uncomfortable corset. It made it a bit difficult to breathe, because of the tightness around the chest.  
Bras were a walk in the fucking park compared to the corset. She decided to grin and deal with it for now, until she was through with her tea at least.  
I probably tied it wrong, she thought.

“If ye wish, you may call me Colum while we are alone.”

“Thank you,” Aimee said. Colum poured her a cup of tea, and handed it to her. Their fingers touched as the cup slid from one hand to the other. She enjoyed the feel of his rough palm.

“You thought Michael had nice hands, and look what he did to you.” She hated that cold sneering voice; it placed fears and doubts in her head.

“Shut up,” Aimee hissed back. “He wouldn’t do that to me.” The voice cackled as she took the cup from Colum, and took a sip.

“Do you not remember your last conversation with him? He had doubts about whether you were raped. He said that Randall didn’t have a good reason to rape you.” Aimee took a sip of tea, trying to ignore the voice in her head.

“He apologized for his poor choice of words,” Aimee shot back.

“He could have been telling a false hood,” the hateful voice continued.

“Shut up, I am tired of listening to you,” Aimee replied.

“Are you well Mistress?” Colum asked, drawing Aimee from her conversation. “You looked like you were miles from here.”

“I am fine,” Aimee said. “I was just day dreaming.” She was relieved that the voice of fear was silent. She hoped it would stay that way. She took another gulp of tea.

“I wish I had more time to day dream,” Colum said with a sigh. “Being Laird does not give me much leisure time. Folks always want something from me it seems.”

“Can you not step down and have somebody else take your place?”

“No Mistress, I cannot. My path was decided for me when I was born. I knew I would take my father’s place when he died, and so shall my son when I pass on.”

“That was a dumb question,” Aimee muttered. “History was my poorest subject in school. I got bad grades on all of my history papers, and kept falling asleep in class.”

“It wasn’t a dumb question,” Colum said. “Per haps the instructor that taught you was at fault, not yourself.” Aimee nodded in agreement as she finished her tea.

“How did you learn the material during school?” Colum asked. “You cannot read print. Did mankind invent a way for blind people to read?”

“Yes they did,” Aimee replied. “I can even show it to you. Do you have a chess board?”

“Aye, that I do,” Colum said. Aimee heard his slow tread as he walked across the room. “Here you are Mistress, how many pieces do you need?” Aimee quite enjoyed Colum’s aristocratic accent, it had a unique sound to it.

 

“I need six, and they need to be the same size.” Colum returned to the desk. He moved aside the tea things, and set down the chess board. Aimee grabbed the chess pieces, and arranged them into two rows of three standing side by side.

“If this was real Braille, which is what we use to read and write, this would be your Braille cell,” she began, listening as Colum grabbed a chair, and sat beside her. “These represent your alphabet, numbers, punctuation, and contractions, which or short cuts for words.”

“That is quite interesting,” Colum said. “SO how would I form letters?”

“First, you need to get to know the formation of the cell. If you feel, they are in two lines of three. The first line, which is the left, represents dots one through three.”

“I see now,” Colum said. “SO this next set is dots four through six?” he asked.

“That is correct,” Aimee said, a smile pulling at her lips. None of her sighted friends were interested in learning Braille. “Now that you know the formation, you can learn letters A through D.” She took his finger, and moved it to the first dot.

“Which one is this?” Colum asked.

“This is A, which is dot one. B is dots one and two, C is one and four, and D is dots one, four, and five.” She placed his finger on each letter as she slowly named each one.

“I think that I have it,” Colum announced when she was done.

“All right, I want you to make me a C,” she said. She held back her laugh when Colum softly tapped the desk with his finger. It reminded her of something her friend Janet did during Algebra during her college days.

“Here you are, the letter C,” he said, sliding over a couple of pieces. A smile touched her lips as she felt the familiar letter.

“That is right,” Aimee replied, bringing the pieces back into formation. Colum was also successful in making A and B, but the letter D was a bit trickier.

“Is this D?” he asked, sliding over the letter he had made.

‘No, the D is dots one, four, and five. What you made was the WH contraction which is dots one, five, and six.”

“That is interesting,” said Colum as he packed up the chess pieces. “If that does not prove you are from the future, then I don’t know what does. We do not have anything like this in this time period, but why did you not tell me of this when I was asking for proof?” Aimee shrugged. She could feel Murtagh’s awareness coming back as he woke up.

“I wasn’t even thinking of Braille at the time,” she replied as she got to her feet.

“I am glad that you showed that to me Mistress, Colum said.

“SO am I, it was quite interesting,” replied Aimee. “I think I will go for a walk now, and get a bit of air. I will see you around,” she said, making her way to the door, and grabbing her cane from the corner. “It will be good for me, and the baby.”

“Have a good time Mistress,” Colum said. Aimee smiled in his direction as she walked from the room.

Do you need me to take ye anywhere? Aimee shook her head at Murtagh’s inquiry.

No thanks, I’ll just explore and see what I will find. How is Jamie?

He is still sleeping. I shall give him his breakfast.  
Aimee marveled at how huge the castle was as she walked. She quickly became confused by all the corridors that the place had. She could feel the space pressing in on her like a vast ocean. She missed her small house. If she reached out her arms, she would feel the reassurance of walls under her fingers, not the vastness of space around her. Her orientation and mobility instructor, Mr. Stevens had told her that land marks were important when getting acclimated to a new place.  
She remembered when she was learning her way to the cafeteria in college, the hum of the coke machine was the land mark that told her she was across from it.

We can start with the places you have been going to. Tomorrow, I will show you how to get from the dining hall and to our rooms. Once you have that lesson down, we can go on from there, Murtagh offered.

That sounds like a good idea to me, Aimee replied.

Good, we can start after breakfast then. You will know your way around this place in no time at all, said Murtagh. Aimee choked back a laugh as she heard him pounding on Jamie’s door.  
She managed to find a stair case, and began to climb. The sounds of Murtagh waking Jamie were a pleasant distraction from the silence.  
Once she reached the top, she turned left, and began walking. After only a few steps, she ran into someone who was walking in the opposite direction.  
She heard a loud thud as what sounded like books hit the stone floor. Aimee set her cane to the side, and knelt to help him pick them up.

“Oh, I am sorry my dear, “He knelt beside her, and began to pick up the rest of his books. “I should have been watching where I was going.” Aimee was happy to find that she didn’t have any fear like she did with most men. His voice sounded too friendly for her to be fearful.

“It is all right,” she replied. “Who am I speaking to? Your voice doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Oh, you are blind. My name is Edward Gowan, but everybody in these parts calls me Ned. A fellow classmate of mine was blind, he had an assistant help with the tests and such.”

“It is nice to meet you Ned Gowan,” Aimee said, handing him the books. “My name is Aimee Jonson. I am the new person around here.” Ned helped Aimee to her feet, and gave back her cane.

“Ah yes, the lady from the Americas,” Ned replied, walking with her. “I saw you at the high table last night. What do you make of this place so far?”

“Well, it is quite big,” she said, relaxing into the conversation. “It is confusing when you are trying to find your way.”

“Aye, I ken the feeling,” Ned agreed. “I got lost myself when I first came here, ended up in the storage room instead of my bed at one point,” he chuckled before continuing. “But I figured it out eventually.”

“What is your line of work here? You have all those books,” inquired Aimee.

“I am the laird’s lawyer,” Ned replied. “I have been here before Colum became Laird, his father and I met along the road after he stole some items of mine, to cut a long story short, we took a shine to one another, and he offered me a job.”

“That was fortunate timing for both of you,” Aimee remarked as Murtagh helped Jamie dress.

“Aye, indeed it was lassie. Where are you going?” Ned asked.

“Nowhere in particular, I am just exploring the place,” said Aimee, trying not to laugh at Murtagh’s exasperations with his godson as he grumbled about not needing help.

“Oh quit your grumbling and let me help ye into the shirt lad, I saw you naked when you were a new bairn. There is nothing I haven’t seen before now, arms in.” Jamie relented, muttering something unflattering under his breath as Murtagh dressed him. “I have porridge for ye on the table, you had best eat up.”

“Yes Mother,” Jamie muttered. He received a pillow thrown at him.

“Aye, right now, I am your Mother, so eat, or I shall force it down your throat,” Murtagh replied.

If you are a woman, then I am a cat.

Ah hush lassie.

Who knew you had a sense of humor Murtagh Fitzgibbons.

Aye, I can keep them coming all day long woman. Aimee smothered a giggle at Murtagh’s dry tone, and returned her focus back to Ned.

“I used to explore this place as well,” Ned said, a smile was in his voice. “I still do from time to time. If you wish, I can take you outside; my study is on the way. I can drop off these books, and we can head out and enjoy the sun.”

“Don’t you have work to do?” Aimee asked him.

“No, today is Saturday. I have the day off,” Ned replied.

“All right then, some company will be nice,” Aimee agreed. She was beginning to feel like she was making a new friend.

May haps you are not as scared of men as you thought you were lassie, Murtagh said. Aimee was hopeful that this was true.

I think we should tell Jamie tonight. If you like, we can have dinner with him, and tell him.

That sounds good to me. Aimee sent him a mental smile as she and Ned headed to his study.

“How about a quick horse ride through the countryside,” Ned suggested. “I am feeling rather shut in, and am in need of a bit of an adventure.”

“Well, if we are going to do that, we will need to pack some lunch,” Aimee replied. It had been a long time sense she had gone on a picnic.

“Aye, what do you enjoy?” asked Ned.

“I am a vegetarian, so I like veggies of all kinds. I also like blueberry pie.”

“A vegetarian eh,” Ned muttered. “All right, let us see what we can find in the kitchens.” Once he had dropped off his books, Ned led Aimee towards the kitchens.

“Ned Gowan, you never come and see me anymore,” Mrs. Fitz’s indignant voice greeted them as they entered the crowded room.

“Oh, I do apologize Glenna, I have been rather busy,” replied Ned. “Mistress Aimee and I are going for a ride through the countryside, and we are in need of a lunch to take along.”

“The cheeses and vegetables are in the cold room, I will get some bread and blueberry pudding as well,” Mrs. Fitz replied. A loud crash interrupted her. It made Aimee and Murtagh jump and flinch.

“For goodness sake Dorothy, can you not be more careful?” Mrs. Fitz barked. “You are the clumsiest girl I have ever met. Thanks to you, we have to start the soup all over again. Now clean up that mess, and get started on it!” Dorothy let out a squeak of fright as she scurried to do as she was told.  
Aimee shook her head. It didn’t seem very nice of Mrs. Fitz to yell at the girl, hadn’t she ever dropped something in the kitchen herself? Yelling solved nothing when working out problems in her view.  
With Murtagh’s encouragement, she walked over to the sobbing Dorothy.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Aimee offered.

“Y-you don’t have t-to m-miss,” Dorothy stuttered.

“Where are the rags and towels? I will get them, and we can get started,” Aimee replied.

“They’re in the cupboard Miss,” Dorothy replied. It took her a bit to get the words out. She must be a stutterer then, Aimee thought.  
Aimee’s cheeks burned with her rage as some of the women laughed from behind them.

“Y-you don’t have to M-miss,” one of the girls mocked with accompanying giggles from her friends.

“You are quite cruel,” Ned’s voice was hard. “Making fun of a lass who has trouble communicating, you all should be ashamed of yourselves.” Dorothy continued to cry as she handed Aimee some towels.

“I shall start the soup while you clean,” Ned offered, his voice more gentle.

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Dorothy whispered as she and Aimee began to clean the spilled soup.

“NO trouble at all,” Ned replied, filling a large pot full of water. “I can at least set the water to boil.” Dorothy thanked him while she quickly wiped up the soup.  
Once everything was clean, Dorothy took over the soup, while Ned and Aimee inspected the picnic that Mrs. Fitz put out for them.  
Everything was well organized in the picnic basket. At twelve O’clock, there was a small mound of bread. At six, there was a pile of cheeses, at three, a mix of carrots and celery rested under slices of tomato. At nine, a pair of bowls sat, filled to the brim with delicious cinnamon smelling blueberry pudding. Aimee’s mouth watered at the smell.

“That is a wonderful little feast. Thank you Mrs. Fitz,” Ned called.

“You are welcome,” Mrs. Fitz called back. “There is fresh apple juice by the basket. I am making a wonderful treat for you Miss Aimee, you will find out what it is at dinner.” Aimee’s slight anger at Mrs. Fitz vanished at this remark.  
Here Mrs. Fitz was, making something special for her, and she was being a judgmental twit. You don’t know what it is like running a busy kitchen after all, she thought.

“You are very kind Mrs. Fitz,” replied Aimee.

“Think of it as a welcome to Castle Leoch gift,” Mrs. Fitz said cheerfully. “I hope that you and Ned enjoy your outing.”

“We will,” Ned replied, taking her arm, and leading her from the kitchens.

The sun was warm on their backs as they made their way towards the stables. Ned smiled as a blue jay flitted overhead. He watched as Miss Aimee swung her stick from side to side, avoiding each obstacle as she hit it.  
It was an interesting tool that was for certain. She also kept her arm in front of her. This helped block her from branches that might be in the path.  
His former classmate John had done the same thing. The neighing of horses reached their ears as they drew level with the stables, Ned could see Old Alec was gently persuading a rather spirited looking stallion into his stall.  
The horse reared, nostrils flaring as he nayed. Alec remained calm however, speaking in soft Gaelic as he lead the animal into its stall.

“Ned Gowan, how are ye?” Alec asked, walking towards them.

“I am doing well,” he replied, flashing Alec a grin. “I am taking our newest guest out for a picnic. I need a wee bit of air myself.”

“Have a good time,” Alec replied. “Take any horse ye wish.”  
Ned flashed him another smile, and lead Aimee towards the stalls.

“I ken just the horse. He is a young laddie, but he is gentle as well.” Alec bustled over as he spoke, taking a saddle from the wall, and tacking it onto the animal.  
He then fastened on the reigns, and lead him from the stall with a click of the tongue.

“Is he good with strangers?” asked Aimee, a wearry look appearing on her face.

“Aye, No Name is a gentle horse, but he can be fierce and protective over those he cares about,” Alec said, handing Ned the reigns. “I think he likes ye Mistress.”

“He does?” Aimee asked. “What is he doing?”

“Why, he is getting to know you,” Alec replied. “Can you not see?” He wore a curious look as he turned towards her.

“No I can’t,” Miss Aimee replied. “I have been blind sense birth. I can only see light and shadows if they are right beside me.”

“I see,” replied Alec.

“Why do you call him No Name?” Aimee inquired.

“It started when he was a wee colt,” Alec explained. “I couldna for the life of me think of a name, so I started calling him by No Name. I’ve tried many names with the rascal, but he won’t answer to anything else.”

“That is interesting,” Aimee replied, a flash of amusement entering her eyes. “What is your name?”

“Folks call me Old Alec. I am the horse master of Leoch.”

“It is nice to meet you Old Alec,” said Aimee while Ned boosted her into the saddle, climbing on behind her.

“You as well Mistress, you can visit the horses anytime ye wish,” said Alec.

“I will consider it,” Aimee replied, smiling in his direction.  
Ned waved at Alec as he clicked his tongue, causing No Name to start moving. First into a trot, and then to a run. He let out a happy nay as he ran.

“I guess he is ready for an adventure as well,” Aimee remarked, grinning at the horse, and stroking his head.

“Ah, there is his Lairdship, peering at us from his window,” Ned said. Miss Aimee smiled.  
Ned brought the horse towards Colum’s window. Aimee reached out a hand, and tapped on the glass.  
Colum gave them a small smile as he tapped back. Ned smiled back as he turned No Name towards the castle gates.  
He knew the perfect picnic spot. It was a lovely field of wildflowers set between the castle, and the village of Cranesmore.  
Ned looked at the sky, frowning with dismay. It was dotted with in coming rain clouds.

“We won’t be able to stay for long,” he said. He turned No Name back into the castle, and towards the meadow near the stables.

“All right,” Aimee replied. They rode into the meadow, dismounted No Name, and spread out their picnic. Ned watched as Miss Aimee carefully organized everything in the same clock formation as before.

“My friend John kept everything organized as well,” Ned said with a chuckle. “The friend we were boarding with hated it. He told me that it made it easier for him to locate things that were needed, which is quite needed when you are blind, and folks keep moving things around.”

“I can agree with him on that point,” Miss Aimee replied. “It is double frustrating when the folks who move the items do not tell you that they are being moved. Then, I have to learn where everything is all over again.” She took two pieces of each item, and began to eat.  
Ned poured the apple juice, and handed her a cup.  
He smiled and took a sip. It was tart, but with a touch of sweetness that he loved.

“I am glad for the rain,” Aimee said.

“So am I,” Ned replied, watching as she took a bite of cheese.

“Winter is my favorite season,” Aimee remarked. “What is yours?”

“I am rather fond of Spring,” replied Ned, taking a bite of tomato.

“I find Spring has too much rain,” Aimee replied, taking a bite of bread.

“Aye, that can be true,” replied Ned, gazing at the ever growing rain clouds. “We must be quick lass, the storm is moving in.” Aimee nodded, beginning to eat faster.

“I love tomatoes,” she said, a dreamy look appearing on her face. She grabbed one, and stuffed it into her mouth.

“I am fond of them as well,” Ned replied. “They are wonderful on a piece of bread.”

“I like to fry mine,” Aimee said, scarfing down a piece of cheese.  
Thunder boomed in the distance as they finished. Ned packed away the basket, and helped Aimee onto No Name’s back.

“I had a good time,” Ned said as they rode towards the stables.

“So did I,” replied Aimee. “We will have to do it again some time.”  
Ned helped her from the saddle as the neighing of horses reached their ears.  
Alec waved at them, taking the horse to his stall.  
The first cold rain drops fell on their faces as the roll of thunder drew near.

“You had best get in eh?” Alic asked. “It is about to rain.”

“Aye, I am ready for an ale,” Ned replied, taking Aimee’s arm, and leading her towards the castle.

“Some apple cider sounds better to me,” said Aimee as they entered the warm entrance hall.

“Let’s go to the kitchens. I am certain that Mrs. Fitz will have made a pot.” The strong smell of cinnamon and baking bread reached their noses as they entered.  
Ned spied a pot of cider, and ladled some in a mug.

“Thank you,” Aimee said, taking the mug. Ned poured himself a glass of ale, and joined her at a table in the corner.

“You are welcome my dear,” replied Ned. They enjoyed their drinks in silence, listening to the chatter and bustle of women around them. Once his mug was empty, Ned got to his feet.

“I am afraid I must return to my study, I just remembered I have some paper work to sort out.” Aimee nodded. “I shall see you later.”

“You as well Mr. Gowan,” replied Aimee. He swept off his hat and bowed, forgetting that she couldn’t see, and left the kitchens.

As the day wore on, Aimee and Murtagh grew anxious about their meeting with Jamie. Would he believe them? They didn’t know.  
Jamie was a good lad with a rational mind, but they both knew that he would do anything to protect his family. They spent the afternoon locked in Murtagh’s room, struggling to figure out how to explain the extraordinary union that existed between them.  
In the end, they decided on the truth, hoping that would be enough.  
As dinner time drew near, their nervousness turned to dread. They left their corridor, and headed towards the kitchens.  
They could feel the stares of people pressing into their backs as they walked, their steps mirroring one another.  
People whispered to each other as the crowd pressed in around them.

Why are they staring at us?

Because folks around these parts are nosey busy bodies with nothing better to do with their time lass. They clenched their hands together as the crowd walked with them, their whispers sounded like hissing wild fires.

“Look, they are holding hands.”

“That is quite inappropriate.”

‘Where does she come from? She is not from around here that is for certain.”

“She could be a whore.”

“She could be a witch, here to entrance the first man she lays eyes upon.”  
Murtagh ran a comforting finger along the back of Aimee’s hand as she suppressed a whimper at the word whore.  
The whispers continued to fly about them as the speculations about her character, and why she and Murtagh were so intimate was discussed. The most popular opinion was that she was a witch.

What a surprise, Murtagh and Aimee thought. They were relieved when they reached the stairs going towards the kitchens.  
The crowd was forced to part from them at this point, which made them quite happy.

“Murtagh, Mistress Aimee,” Mrs. Fitz greeted as they entered. “How can I help you?”

“We are going to have supper with Jamie. Can you serve us enough for three?” Murtagh asked.

“Of course I can,” Mrs. Fitz replied, quickly doing as she was asked. “I have your surprise right here Miss Aimee,” she added, handing her a plate.  
“I got the recipe from a woman I know that lived in the Americas for a time.”

“Thank you Mrs. Fitz,” Aimee replied as Murtagh took the basket of food.  
He took the plate from Aimee, and added it to the basket.

‘You are quite welcome. I hope they have turned out,” replied Mrs. Fitz.

“I am confident that they will,” said Aimee as she and Murtagh left the kitchens.  
They were relieved to find the passageways to Jamie’s room silent. The distant rumble of voices reached their ears as they passed the dining hall, and turned left towards the stairs.  
They reached Jamie’s room a few minutes later, and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Jamie called. Murtagh opened the door, and guided Aimee inside.

“Mistress Aimee and I have food,” he began. “There is something we need to speak to ye about.”

“Come and sit at the table and tell me about it,” Jamie replied.  
Murtagh saw him raising an eyebrow at his and Aimee’s clasped hands.  
He mentally translated this to Aimee, who wore a small frown.

We are just holding hands. What is the big fucking deal?

Folks in this time deem it inappropriate for men and women to hang out with one another, as you call it. Aimee gritted her teeth in annoyance and sat down.

In my time, people think that just because a man and a woman share a hug, it means they are secretly dating. We are a hyper sexualized society, sexual hook ups are quite normal, so is having sex while you are dating.  
Murtagh handed Jamie his plate of food. He suppressed a shudder as flashes of songs with sexual lyrics flitted through their minds.

“Mrs. Fitz gave you a nice spread here Aimee,” he said. “She made you some wonderful looking squash, along with some carrots, and a barley soup.” He pressed her silver where into her hand, and grabbed Mrs. Fitz’s special dessert, and took the cloth off the plate.  
A strong smell of cinnamon hit their noses.

“That smells like cinnamon rolls,” said Aimee. She stuck out a hand and touched one. “They are,” she added with a grin.  
Not able to resist, she took a big bite. It was cooked to perfection.  
Murtagh and Aimee enjoyed the wonderful softness of the bread, along with a hint of brandy in the cinnamon flavored frosting.  
Cinnamon burst onto their tongues as she reached the middle of the bread, along with the sweetness of currents.

“This is wonderful,” Aimee said, swallowing the final bite of roll. Wiping her hands on her napkin, she arranged her silver where in the way that Nick had taught her.  
She and Murtagh heard his voice in their heads, along with his rich laughter.

“The fork goes on the left side of the plate, while the knife and spoon sit at the right. The blade of the knife rest towards the plate, while the water glass sits above it.”

He sounds like a nice man, Murtagh said mentally.

Yeah, I miss him, Aimee replied as she poured herself some milk.

“What is it you wish to talk to me about?” Jamie asked.  
Aimee took a drink of milk, while Murtagh told Jamie about their union and how it came about. Murtagh watched Jamie carefully as confusion flitted across his face.

“So you are saying that you can read one another’s thoughts, you have access to one another’s memories, and share one another’s senses?” he asked. Murtagh and Aimee nodded.  
There was a long moment of silence. Jamie dug into his meal as his confusion turned into a mixture of shock and disbelief. As the silence stretched, a look of calm settled onto his face.

“I will need to think about this,” he said. Murtagh did not like the look on his face. Something about it didn’t seem right to him.

“We are telling you the truth lad,” Murtagh said. Aimee hung her head as guilt bubbled in her stomach. Her squash tasted like dust.

This is not your fault lass.

“This isn’t right,” Jamie muttered, peering at Murtagh and Aimee. “This isn’t normal. May haps she has cast a spell over you, to control you in some way.” Murtagh glared at him.

“She is not a witch,” he snarled. He had thought that Jamie would at least give them the benefit of the doubt.  
His stomach dropped as a look of hurt betrayal entered his eyes. He had spent Jamie’s whole life looking out for him as his godfather, and now this happened.

“Please Jamie, try and understand,” Murtagh whispered. “It is understandable that you may not believe us, but try and put yourself in our shoes.” Jamie did not respond. His thoughts and emotions were hidden, a trait he inherited from Colum and Dougal.

“We need your help,” he continued, “We canna do this alone.”  
Murtagh had never received that look before; he and Jamie were always honest and open with one another. Aimee was trying her best to comfort him, but her attempts were useless.  
Murtagh turned away, he couldn’t look into those blue eyes any longer.

I’m sorry lass; I ken you are trying, but… He trailed off, not being able to articulate his thought. Jamie quickly finished his meal, and got to his feet.

“I need to go for a walk,” he announced, heading towards the door. “I hope you can forgive me for this Murtagh, but I am doing this for your own good.”  
He opened the door as Murtagh leapt to his feet.

“What do you mean?” he asked. Jamie ignored his godfather.

“Don’t you dare ignore me James,” Murtagh growled. Jamie did not look at him as he continued his walk towards the door.

“Enjoy your dinner,” he replied. Murtagh opened his mouth to speak, his eyes flashing. Jamie shook his head, opened the door, and left the room.  
Murtagh shoved away his plate. His appetite was quite gone.  
He thought about going after Jamie, but knew it would do no good. Once Jamie set his mind to something, nothing could change it. Aimee put her arms around him as he sobbed into her shoulder, his heart shattering into a million pieces.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Well, here is another chapter. I am sorry for the long wait, life, and writer’s block got in the way. I hope that you enjoy it.  
> warning: this story contains mentions of self harm. This may be triggering for some readers.

Chapter four.  
Castle Leoch was running with activity the next morning as people got ready for Mass.  
Aimee walked through the castle, listening as Mothers scolded their wayward children. The loudest of these was Letitia, Lady of Castle Leoch.

“How many times have I told you to wipe yer feet before entering the castle!” she bellowed.

“It was only a wee bit of mud!” Hamish snapped back.

“It may be only a wee bit of mud to you laddie, but it is more work for Mrs. Fitz and her lasses, no, it will be work for you actually,” Letitia said. “You will be helping Mrs. Fitz out in the kitchens for a week, and if you raise your voice to me again Hamish MacKenzie, I shall box your ears. Now, go and clean yourself up before you eat breakfast.”

“Um I don’t mean to interrupt, but I can’t find the dining hall,” Aimee said to Letitia. Murtagh was still sleeping, and Aimee didn’t want to wake him.  
He had spent most of the night tossing and turning, worrying over Jamie.

“You have just passed it,” Letitia replied. “If you turn around, and to your left, you will find the corridor that leads to it. Would you tell Colum that I will be a long shortly? I need to see to Hamish.”

“Yes, I can do that,” Aimee replied. “Thanks for the help.”

“You are welcome,” Letitia answered.

The hall was abuzz with chatter as Aimee entered, and made her way towards the tables, her cane sweeping from left to right.  
Her foot caught on the hem on her dress, and she began to fall. The hall grew silent as her cane slipped from her hand with a loud clatter. She could hear it begin to roll away from her.  
Laughter sprang up around her as her knees hit the cold stone floor. Aimee did her best to ignore it as she felt around for her cane.

“Here is your stick Miss,” Ned Gowan said, handing it to her, and helping her to her feet. “Would you like to sit with me? I have a spot available at my table.”

“Thank you, I would like that,” Aimee replied. She was happy to find that the table that he lead her to was at the back of the hall.  
She had politely refused Colum’s invitation to see Gwyllyn the Bard’s performance the night before, she did not want to be in such a crowded space where people would probably had stared at her, and gossiped.  
She hoped that the position of the table would keep her anonymous for now, the thought of being in the center of attention made her want to bolt from the hall, and climb into Murtagh’s comforting embrace.  
Once she was seated, she picked at a bowl of porridge, wishing for a huge stack of fluffy buttermilk pancakes drowning in Vermont maple syrup. She was starting to hate the taste of oats. It was mind boggling to her how the Scots weren’t sick of eating the stuff day after day.  
Sighing to herself, she forced the flavorless oats down her throat. The baby needed to eat, even if she didn’t want to.

“Ah, here come Angus, and Rupert,” Ned remarked as a bencgh scraped from across from them. “Have either of you met Miss Aimee?”

“Aye, we did,” a man with a deep voice replied. “Angus and I were with Dougal’s party when Murtagh found her. I must say, you are a fine looking lassie, my name is Rupert.”

“Hello Rupert,” Aimee said coolly, a memory of him and Angus joking about putting her status as a whore to the test entering her mind. She began to feel queasy from the smell of strong beer from across from her.  
Why in the hell would anybody want to drink at the beginning of the day? Aimee decided to leave that question for another time as Rupert and Angus proceeded to go into graphic detail about a sexual encounter they had the night before.  
As an asexual, Aimee didn’t understand society’s obsession with sex, the same was said for romance. She had never desired either of those things, even as a teenager.  
She had been pretty lonely as all of her friends proceeded to hook up for dates, as if by some compulsory signal that was quite baffling. She had kissed a boy from her Biology class, just to see if she would like it.  
She had confessed to Keith, that she didn’t know what the big deal was. “It is just two pairs of lips coming together after all,” she had said.  
Aimee wasn’t bothered by the crudeness of Rupert and Angus’s story, but the way they told it made her stomach flip with unease.  
They seemed to act like the woman was just an object for their lusts, not a living person with feelings of her own. It was far too close to how Michael had treated her.  
I wonder how many STDs Angus and Rupert have, Aimee thought, repressing a shudder at the thought of how many women they had slept with. They didn’t exactly have protection against that type of stuff in this time period.  
She made lazy patterns in her porridge remains as the graphic story continued.

“As you can guess, little Margery wasna satisfied with just one of us, she wanted us both,” Angus crowed with a satisfied laugh.

“Well then, good for her,” Aimee snarled, getting to her feet, and slamming down her porridge bowl. “If you will excuse me, I am going to find more civilized conversation.”

“Oy, I am quite civilized Missy!” Angus yelled.

“Yeah right,” Aimee snapped. “You laugh like a girl by the way, has anybody told you that?” Her voice turned as sweet as sugar as she kicked in her bench. Rupert roared with laughter as Aimee grabbed her cane, and stalked towards the front of the hall.

Colum poured himself a cup of tea as he watched Miss Aimee stalking towards his table. A dark scowl was on her face, making her look quite forbidding.  
Though seeing who her table companions were, he couldna blame her. He didna care much for Rupert and Angus, they chased women far too often, and were proud of telling anyone of their inner circle about their conquests.  
Ned Gowan was starting to look irritated as he nodded politely at a rather inappropriate joke about a whore that Rupert had met in a pub.  
Colum grimaced as he tried to ignore Angus’s girlish laughter. His attention turned to Aimee as she made her way to the front of the hall, swinging her stick as she did so. He could just make out the scratchy sound her stick made when she swung it from side to side. It was interesting to see how it would bump into objects like a table leg before she ran into them. He soon realized that the stick wouldn’t protect her from everything. She was walking towards the door, and ran into the wall beside it.  
Her scowl darkened even more as she murmured something that he couldn’t catch as she stormed from the dining hall.  
As he turned back to his porridge, his mind turned to his nephew. He knew that Jamie would not be safe in the castle for long. If Randall decided to come calling, they would all be in grave danger.  
There were also MacKenzies that wouldn’t hesitate in turning him in to the English. Once his broken arm was healed, he would have him moved to the stables.  
Colum wasn’t one who showed his emotions easily, but he loved his nephew. He wasn’t happy with the thought of him sleeping in the stables, especially during the Winter months, but he had to set that aside. He had a clan to protect after all, so they would have to make do for now.  
Being Laird was not an easy thing, and not everybody had the capacity to do so. You have to be willing to make difficult decisions such as when to go to war, and when to sustain.  
He was quite aware that Dougal was after the job. He had been quite angry when he had informed him that he had chosen Jamie as his successor, at least until Hamish became of age.  
Jamie would be able to teach him the ropes of becoming Laird, and would guide him into manhood. Colum sighed to himself as he took a bite of porridge.  
He knew quite well that it was a waste of his precious time worrying about everything, he could only deal with one problem at a time. He had sent inquiries for a healer, but was out of luck thus far. May haps Mrs. Fitz would be able to assist him in his search, as a fae, she must know some. She traveled a lot before coming to work at Castle Leoch.  
He and her late husband William had been great friends, and that friendship also extended to the kind fairy.  
Mrs. Fitz had sworn him to secrecy, after he had seen her flying through the trees.  
Once William had died, Colum had offered her a job at the castle.  
Glenna had some skill as a healer herself, but she was the head cook and house keeper. They would simply have to make do for the time being.

Murtagh walked to Jamie’s room, blinking sleep from his eyes. He hoped that his godson had thought things over, and would see reason.  
Aimee met him a couple corridors from the room.

Did you sleep at all last night? You are quite tired, Murtagh said.

I got about four hours, half the recommended sleep time which is eight. Replied Aimee. I will probably go and rest a bit after you see to Jamie.

You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, said Murtagh, slipping his hand into her own.

I know, but I want to, answered Aimee as they walked towards Jamie’s door.  
Murtagh knocked on it, but there was complete silence from the other side. He shook his head and pounded louder.

“Jamie, time to wake up now,” he called.

“Something must be wrong,” Aimee said. Murtagh grunted in agreement as he yanked open the door, and entered.  
The sitting room was empty, so he opened the door to the bedroom. The bed was neatly made with no sign of having been slept in the night before.  
Panicking slightly, he ran from the room, closing the door as he did so.

“He isn’t there,” he said.

“Let’s go check the stables, he may be out there,” Aimee offered.

“Aye, he might have decided to stay out there last night for some reason,” Murtagh replied as he and Aimee sprinted through the corridors, and quickly made their way to the stables.  
They checked the stalls, calling for him as they did so.  
Jamie’s mop of flaming hair was not there to greet him as he turned panick filled eyes towards the meadow.  
He spotted Old Alec gathering bales of hay to pitch into the stalls.

“Have you seen Jamie?” Murtagh asked him. Old Alec shook his head.

“Why do you ask?” he inquired.

‘He is missing,” replied Murtagh. “Since last night maybe.” He swallowed before continuing. “His bed doesna look like it was slept in.”

“Perhaps you could check in the village. You can take No Name, he is a fast horse.” Murtagh nodded his thanks as he lead Aimee to No Name’s stall.  
He helped her into the saddle, and climbed up behind her.

We can ask either Arthur Dunkin or Father Bain, one of them might know, said Murtagh, slapping No Name with the reigns. Mass doesna start until noon, so he may be at the church getting everything ready.

The village of Cranesmore was bustling with activity. People moved about, going from one place to the next. Children shrieked with laughter as they enjoyed their play, while their parents scolded them for making too much noise.  
Murtagh mentally commentated all this for Aimee as they sped towards the church.  
They presently reached the church, and dismounted No Name. Murtagh peered through the glass window.  
Jamie was sitting on one of the chairs, his head bent towards Father Bain. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he listened to what the priest was saying. Murtagh could see a bit of hesitation in Jamie’s blue eyes, his lips were pressed into a thin line as they always were when in the midst of a struggle.  
Jamie nodded as he straightened from his kneeled position, his face clearing into his usual calm mask. Father Bain’s lips moved as he spoke once more. Murtagh could hear the low rumble of his voice, but couldn’t make out the words.  
Murtagh held his curiosity in check; Father Bain did not like folks eaves dropping on private conversations. He was a man who kept to himself, shutting out the slow progress of time with its inevitable changes.  
He stuck to his beliefs, and no one could sway him towards enlightenment.  
Fear bubbled in Murtagh’s stomach like acid. He had a sudden ominous feeling that they should not have come. Aimee’s hand twitched in his own.

I think we should leave. Murtagh was in full agreement with Aimee’s thought.  
They had just turned to get back onto No Name, when the door behind them flew open. Murtagh and Aimee stood frozen as Father Bain stalked towards them.

Run! They wanted to obey the voice in their shared mind, but neither could move. They stood as still as statues, their legs felt like they were made of led.

“Ah, Murtagh Fraser, just the man I was about to search for,” Father Bain said. “James has just informed me of your troubles with a curse. Why don’t you come inside, and let me have a look. A little exorcism shall rid you of the daemon.” Murtagh and Aimee sprang for No Name, but Jamie stood in front of them, blocking their way.

“I suggest you do as he says Murtagh,” he said. Murtagh stared at him. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“Let us pass James,” he said calmly. “You do not ken what you are up against.” Jamie shook his head, his face set and stubborn.

“Come on Jamie, let’s have a cup of tea and talk this over,” Aimee said, stepping forward. Jamie hissed at her like an angry cat.

“Stay away from me witch, “he growled.

“She is not a witch,” Murtagh snarled.

“Aye, she is Murtagh, and if you will not come willingly, I shall take ye there myself.” So saying, Jamie reached around Aimee, and picked him up.  
Aimee screamed for help as she tried to wrestle Murtagh away from him, but a ringing slap from Father Bain had her stumbling back.  
Cold fury went through Murtagh. Nobody had the right to lay a hand on his Aimee. He struggled against Jamie’s grip, but his godson was bigger than he was, and soon had him in what Aimee called a fire man’s hold, in spite of the fool’s broken arm, Murtagh thought. He began to slip from Jamie’s one armed grasp, but Father Bain grabbed his legs.

What should I do? Aimee asked.

Go and get Laird Colum, or Mrs. Fitz, he called to her as he was taken inside.  
Aimee ran over to No Name who wickerd at her in greeting.

“No time boy, I need to go to Colum’s study,” she said. The horse lowered himself so she could mount.  
He licked her hand, and galloped away from Cranesmore. Murtagh gave Aimee directions to help her guide No Name in the right direction.  
Aimee’s hands tightened on the reigns as she felt a strong rope being tied around Murtagh’s body.  
The rope pressed into their skin as he struggled to move.

“It will be over soon,” Jamie crooned as Father Bain tied a rope around his legs, and began chanting in a low voice. As he chanted, they felt his hand pressing on Murtagh’s chest and head.  
Slowly, his voice began to rise as he spoke with more command. Pain began to build inside them as he spoke.  
It was as if someone was tearing at a bone, trying to break it. It slowly grew as Father Bain’s voice thundered around them.

“Jamie, please stop this,” Murtagh whispered, tears filling his eyes as the pain grew like a hot knife just off the fire. He and Aimee yelled as the pain grew until it filled their senses.

“It will be over soon Murtagh,” Jamie said softly. Tears streamed down Murtagh’s cheeks as he gazed at his godson through pain filled eyes.

“Jamie, please,” Murtagh whispered.

“It will be over soon Murtagh, just lie still,” Jamie replied, stroking his sweat soaked hair. Aimee was clutching No Name’s main as she battled the pain that was pounding through her. Icy fear bubbled through them as Father Bain continued to chant, and No Name sped towards the castle.  
The thought of being permanently separated was horrifying. They didn’t want to go back to being half of a whole, forever parted from one another.

I love ye lass, Murtagh’s voice was tight with pain as he spoke. Aimee gently hushed him as she struggled to ignore the pain that raged through them like fire. Their voices began to grow hoarse from their yelling.  
The horrible ripping sensation grew stronger. This felt worse than the pain, like a hand was reaching in, and ripping out something that was a part of them. Aimee struggled to keep panic at bay as she buried her face into No Name’s heaving side.  
He nayed softly to her as he drew level with the castle.

“Mistress, Mistress!” Old Alec’s yell seemed far away as the pain raged on, and Father Bain continued to chant. “Are ye all right Mistress? Do ye need help? You look as pale as a ghost.”

“Colum, I need Laird Colum,” Aimee said through her sobs. “Please, get Colum.”

“All right lass, you just wait right here, and I shall get him for ye. DO you wish for No Name to keep you company?” Old Alec asked in a gentle voice.

“No, he needs water, he has been riding hard. Father Bain has Murtagh.”

“Saints preserve us,” Old Alec whispered as Murtagh let out another hoarse yell. Aimee managed to stifle her own with difficulty. “I do not ken what is happening, but Colum shall not be happy about this, there is bad blood between Himself and Father Bain. I shall return with him shortly.” He helped her from the saddle, and lead her over to a log.  
“It will be all right Mistress.” Aimee hugged herself as she struggled to fight off the pain.

Murtagh, she whispered, reaching for him.

Aimee, lass, Murtagh’s voice was muffled, as if she were under water. Where are ye? I canna find ye. She let out a choked cry as she franticly searched for him.  
His presence was growing weaker by the second; she could barely hear what he was thinking. It was if they were standing on opposite ends of a long tunnel.

“Nooo!” she screamed, fighting against the panic that wanted to choke her. She threw herself towards him, reaching for anything she could find. She was aware of Murtagh doing the same as Father Bain continued his chanting.  
She threw herself against the force that was keeping them apart, but it was quickly draining her of energy. Sweat soaked her body as she trembled with fear and exhaustion.  
The invading force seemed to grow angry at this attempt as it flung her away from her goal. Her head pounded as she gathered her dwindling strength for one final effort. Murtagh’s presence was rapidly slipping away, and she couldn’t let that happen.  
The thought of being one half of herself was unbearable. She could just sense Murtagh struggling as well, but the thing that was ripping their bond apart was too strong for either of them to contend with.

Murtagh, can you hear me? Murtagh didn’t answer. Tears streamed down her face as she slumpt forward. He had always answered her when she called.

Murtagh. Coldness filled her at the lack of response as a scream of anguish was torn from her.  
She did not want to go back to her lonely life. It would be as if somebody had chopped of her right leg, and demanded her to walk.

“Murtagh!” she screamed, not caring who would hear her. She doubled over, gasping as she sobbed at the empty feeling that was spreading through her.  
She could no longer feel his presence, or hear what he was doing or thinking. He was gone.  
At this, she threw herself onto the ground, screaming out his name as she kicked, and yanked out tufts of grass. She continued to scream as she struggled against the terrible soul deep ache that replaced the spot where her Murtagh had been.  
But he was now gone, and he would never be able to come back.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I hope this is good. I wanted to post something before I get cracking on NanoWrimo, which I am late for, oh, nooooo. I will not be posting on this until it is over. But keep your eyes open for a new Forrest Gump/Outlander crossover.

Jamie watched as Father Bain straightened up from Murtagh. He was relieved that the exorcism was over. Murtagh’s screams were seared in his mind. But it had to be done, he thought. You screamed yourself when you got your tooth removed when you were a wee lad remember? It only hurt for a little while, but it soon disappeared, and is now just a memory. It is the same with Murtagh, he shall be well soon, and he shall be grateful for Father Bain’s excellent work. There is often pain in healing after all. Jamie was brought back from his musings by Father Bain’s voice.

“All right James, I managed to block the curse for now, but I shall have to see him again to perform another exorcism. I would love to continue with him, but I need to prepare for Mass,” Jamie stared at Murtagh’s prone form. “He should wake in a few minutes, the combined forces of the curse and the exorcism were too much for his body to handle, but he shall be well. Bring him back in a week or so, I want this removed from him as quickly as possible.” Jamie nodded, and began working on the rope that was still tied around Murtagh. His ratty face was screwed up in a grimace of pain. Jamie mopped his brow as he quickly untied him. He jumped as Father Bain’s hand landed on his shoulder. Jamie shuddered, repressing the urge to flinch away. There was something unfriendly in that touch, it was cold, unfriendly, and dangerous. He closed his eyes as butterflies fluttered in his stomach.

“Your Godfather shall be restored to his old self in no time,” he said, attempting a smile that looked more like a horrid grimace. Jamie looked into Father Bain’s eyes and nearly leapt back with a yell. They were not their normal blue, they were pitch black. I must be seeing things, he thought as he blinked. He closed them for a second, hoping that the strange transformation would go away.  
Upon opening them, he was relieved to find them bright blue once more. You need more sleep Jamie, he muttered to himself, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling in his stomach. Don’t be a fool, Father Bain is a man of God, and he was called by our lord to the noble calling of priesthood. He has his flaws like every other man, but he is a man of the cloth, ordained by the church to bring the gospel of Jesus to the masses. Jamie nodded at this thought as he felt the cold pressure of Father Bain’s hand leaving his shoulder.  
Murtagh will need just one more exorcism, and he shall be back to normal, Jamie said to himself.

“Thank you Father for helping us,” Jamie said. “I shall bring him in the Tuesday after this one shall I?” Father Bain nodded, and walked towards the door.

“Indeed, that shall be fine with me. I must get ready for Mass now, Murtagh shall awaken shortly.” Jamie watched him leave. The closing of the chamber door sounded rather ominace. He turned back to Murtagh, and wiped at his brow once more. Nothing is going to go wrong, he chided himself. You are doing the right thing. Once this curse has been lifted, Murtagh shall forget about the witch, and you shall have your godfather back. Jamie smiled at this thought as he forgot the strange transformation of Father Bain’s eyes and the unease it brought.

“Yes, everything shall be just fine,” he whispered.

Murtagh groaned as his eyes opened. He placed a hand on his head with a grimace of pain.

“My head feels like it has been ran over by a pickup truck,” he said hoarsely. He could just make out Jamie’s confused expression. He grabbed a container of water, and pressed it to Murtagh’s lips.

“What are you talking about? You are talking nonsense. “Here, take some water.” Murtagh took slow sips of the liquid. He stared around the room, trying to remember why he was there. Everything was so fuzzy, something didn’t feel right. He screwed up his face as he tried to think, but he couldn’t place his finger on it.  
He frowned to himself as he continued to drink, remembering what Aimee said about staying hydrated. He let out a sharp gasp as his memory came flooding back.  
He was here because of an exorcism. Aimee’s presence deep within himself was gone, it must have worked. Was she dead? Did the exorcism kill her while knocking him unconscious? No, that was unthinkable.

“Murtagh, did ye hear me?” He blinked at his godson, having missed what he had just said.

“Could you repeat that?” he asked. Jamie’s eyes flickered with concern as he answered.

“Father Bain wishes to perform another exorcism, he has managed to block the curse, but he needs to do one more to get rid of it entirely.” A mixture of fear and anger shot through him at Jamie’s words. He wheeled to face him and jabbed a finger into his chest.

“No, I will not be doing that again, are you really so foolish?” “I was unconscious. The exorcism might kill me next time, have you not thought of that?”

“It shall not kill you,” Jamie replied. Murtagh glared at him, he wanted to punch that unconcerned look right off his face. “Father Bain said that the combined forces of the curse and the exorcism were too much for your body to handle. Sense the curse is weaker now, we shouldna have that problem next time. Just think Murtagh, you shall be cured. Things can go back to normal, and you can forget about that witch.”” Murtagh stared at his godson. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Had all the lad’s senses left him?

“No Jamie, you are the stranger, not me, you refuse to open your mind to what I told you.” Jamie shook his head, and took a gulp of water, and frowned. Murtagh could read the confusion and disapproval on his face.

“I want you to stay away from her, she is poisoning your mind with evil spells,” Murtagh’s eyes flashed. Fury boiled inside him. How dare he! He leapt to his feet; but gasped as a wave of dizziness slammed into him. The room began to spin like one of those merry go rounds in Aimee’s time. Jamie’s hand landed on his shoulder, but he brushed it off, looking at him as if seeing him for the first time. Jamie’s face crumpled for a split second, but it was replaced by a stern frown.

“SO you are to now tell me who I can and canna associate with James Fraser?”

“Aye, it is my place as long as it is a witch we are dealing with,” he replied in a low and dangerous tone. Murtagh slumped back down as the room began to slow back to normal. He rubbed his eyes, wishing he could just go to sleep for a long time. He felt drained of energy. He opened his mouth to reply, sighed, and closed it again. He was too drained to argue. He turned away from Jamie and stared out the window. He hoped that something outside would distract him from the thick cloud of tension that hung in the room between them.  
He was too overwhelmed by everything at the moment; he would deal with Jamie’s betrayal later.  
Muffled footsteps caught Murtagh’s attention. He turned to the door and watched as it flew open, nearly hitting the wall.  
Colum and Aimee rushed in, followed by Mrs. Fitz. Murtagh sighed in relief as Aimee ran towards him. She looked as bad as he felt. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and her hair was windswept. She and Colum must have taken a wagon, he thought. Colum canna ride a horse with his legs the way they are.  
He hugged her tight, not wanting to let go. He closed his eyes, allowing her silky soft hair to run through his fingers. He rubbed her back, trying to calm her as she trembled.

“Aimee, listen to me, the bond isna broken, that bastard Father Bain only managed to block it. If we can find a way to unblock it, then we shall be back to normal.” Jamie shook his head, a stubborn frown on his face.

“This isna normal, this thing inside you.” Murtagh sent him an icy glare, warning him to speak again. “I promised I would have it removed from ye, and I shall do so whether you wish it or no,” Jamie said, ignoring the glare.

‘You shall do no such thing Jamie,” Mrs. Fitz said, stepping from the shadows. “You canna split apart a soul without causing serious damage.”  
Jamie turned to Colum who was watching in silence.

“Uncle, surely you canna abide this abomination.” Colum opened his mouth to reply, but Murtagh turned to his aunt by marriage.

‘How did you know about Aimee and I?” Mrs. Fitz shifted from one foot to the other, a nervous habit that Murtagh knew all too well.

“Please understand, I would have told ye this sooner, but I was afeared,” she whispered. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I am a fae, one of the auld ones.” Murtagh stared at her.

“I dinna see any wings on ye,” he said. She gave him a soft smile and turned towards him.

“Watch,” she replied. A look of concentration appeared on her plump face. Slowly, small delicate looking wings began to sprout from her shoulders. They look so small, he thought. I could probably break them if I were not careful.  
He watched in further astonishment as her wrinkles began to disappear. A much younger looking woman was floating in front of him.

“Why, ye look very bonnie,” he said. She flew towards him with a laugh.

“Are you saying that I didna look so before?” a grin was on her face. “We fairies age much slower than humans. I am still my same age, but I wilna look it until I reach my hundredth birthday.”

“So you have been hiding as a human all this time?” Murtagh asked.

“Aye she has,” replied Colum, turning from a rather angry looking Jamie. “She swore me to secrecy when I was younger. Mistress Aimee told me about your situation, and Mrs. Fitz has volunteered to help ye. I am here to oversee the proceedings; we don’t want anything else to happen.” Murtagh cuddled Aimee close to his chest.

“No,” he gulped. “We don’t.” He was pleased to see that she was calm. She buried her face in his hair, and ran a hand through his beard. She was still shivering, but it was with cold instead of fear.  
He placed her on his lap, put his arms around her, and wrapped his plaid around them both.

“Now,” Mrs. Fitz said, flying towards them. “I need to have a look at ye to see what the damage is.”

“How are ye going to do that?” Murtagh asked. Sense Aimee’s arrival through the stones, he wasn’t surprised by much anymore.

“By looking at your soul light,” Mrs. Fitz replied. Aimee looked utterly baffled.

‘Soul light?” she repeated in a tone of disbelief.

“Aye, your soul light is different than your aura; your soul light shows the heart of a person.” She leaned over them, humming in concentration.

“What is wrong?” Murtagh asked, spotting her worried frown.

“You are indeed blocked from one another,” she said. “There is dark magic blocking your energies. I do not know how though, you are a single essence.” She frowned in concentration, placing her hands on each of their shoulders.

“Is that a bad thing?” Colum asked, peering at them over his shoulder.

“Aye, it is My Laird,” Mrs. Fitz replied. “It is indeed blocked. I can see it in your auras as well; they are further apart when they should be indistinguishable from one another.”

“What colors are our auras?” Aimee asked.

“Well lass, you have a green aura,” Mrs. Fitz replied. “Green is the color of nature, you are practical, down to earth, a social person with a strong will.” Mrs. Fitz paused, a frown of concern on her face. “There is darkness within where there shouldna be.” Panic flashed in Aimee’s eyes. Murtagh knew that she was worried that Mrs. Fitz knew about the rape and resulting pregnancy. “Your aura Murtagh is brown. That means you are down to earth and practical, a loyal color if I do say so myself.”

“Aye, but how is that going to help us?” Murtagh snapped. Mrs. Fitz smiled at him.

“It will take a lot of concentration to do this, I must summon the dark magic out of you, then you will be restored. No, I need you to stay touching,” Mrs. Fitz added as Aimee tried to get up. “My Laird, I need you to keep an eye on them. This will not be easy, dark magic can be hard to purge, and it may hurt them. I have some medicine that shall put them to sleep, but they need to be awake.” Colum nodded, and took his place behind them.

“What do you want us to do?” Aimee asked.

“I need you to keep touching, and concentrate on one another.”

“How will ye ken once it has worked?” asked Colum.

“Their auras will have merged into one as they were before, along with their soul lights.” Colum nodded as Mrs. Fitz closed her eyes.

“No!” Jamie roared, springing forward with his drawn sword.  
Murtagh watched in horror as he lunged towards Mrs. Fitz with wild eyes. Quick as lightning, he grabbed Aimee, and shoved her under the chair. He heard her grunt as she hit the ground with a loud thud.

“Get away from him,” Jamie hissed at Mrs. Fitz, gazing at her with angry and mistrustful eyes.

“Jamie!” Colum’s voice was like a crack of the whip. “Sit down, you are being a fool. Mrs. Fitz isna evil just because she is fae, she is the same woman that you have kent for half yer life!” Jamie looked ready to argue, but the dark look in Colum’s cool gray eyes stopped him.

“Dinna tell me you believe those Scottish stories about my people,” Mrs. Fitz said in a casual tone. “You shouldna, they are just stories you ken.” Jamie gave her a half angry, half frightened look before he sat back down.  
Murtagh sighed in relief as he helped Aimee to her feet.

“Now, can you help us Glenna?” he asked. Mrs. Fitz smiled at him as he and Aimee sat back down.

‘Aye,” she replied, flying towards them once more. She closed her eyes, and placed her hands on their shoulders. Her hands began to glow slightly as she concentrated.  
Murtagh and Aimee gasped as heat traveled from her hands to their shoulders.  
It felt like a warm fire was inside of them, they could feel it traveling through their bodies.

“Aye, there it is, I can feel the dark magic now,” Mrs. Fitz said grimly. “What fools we have all been to trust the so called Father Bain. I was unfortunately one of them.”

“What do you mean?” Murtagh and Aimee asked together.

“He is not a man,” Mrs. Fitz replied. “He is a demon who works for the devil. He is rather skilled at hiding his powers, I couldna sense them until recently.”

‘Why in Christ’s name did you not tell me this?” Colum barked. Mrs. Fitz snorted.

“I am surprised at you My Laird, as smart as you are; I thought you would have figured it out.” Colum glared at her as the glow around her hands brightened.

“Well Glenna, I wouldn’t have asked ye if I did ken the reason,” he snapped. “I could have had him removed from the village of Cranesmore. He had poisoned the minds of this town long enough, planting lies, mistrust, and hatred in their heads. If I had kent it, my Margret wouldn’t have been burnt at the stake.” Murtagh saw a quick flash of anger crossing Colum’s features before it was gone once more.

“What do ye think would have happened then eh?” Mrs. Fitz said. “You would have been accused by the folk of this town of going against a man of the cloth. You may yourself have been accused of witchcraft. Besides, I didna ken that he was a demon when Margret was alive.” Colum sighed at her words, and leaned forward in his chair. “Now let me concentrate.” She closed her eyes once more as the heat from her hands grew more intense. Murtagh felt Aimee tense in his lap.

“Try and relax,” he whispered. “It shall hopefully be over soon.” Mrs. Fitz’s face tightened with a grimace of slight pain.

“This shall not be pleasant,” she muttered, tightening her left hand on Murtagh’s shoulder. He and Aimee breathed deeply as her energy flew towards the dark presence inside them. They gritted their teeth together to keep from crying out as pain exploded in them. Mrs. Fitz’s face grew pale as she struggled to remove the dark energy. It was as if somebody was pulling one of their muscles continuously.  
Colum looked at them in concern as the distant sounds of the church door opening reached their ears, along with a babble of voices.

“If you start feeling weak and like you are going to faint, please let me know,” Mrs. Fitz requested. Murtagh and Aimee nodded as they felt the energy start to leave their bodies.  
It was slow at first, but Mrs. Fitz’s magic quickly over powered it. They managed not to cry out as the pain grew to its climax; their focus was on each other.

“It is working,” Mrs. Fitz panted, sweat forming on her brows. “How do they look Colum?”

“They look fine to me, there doesn’t appear to be any danger of either of them fainting, though they do look a bit tired.”

“That is to be expected,” Mrs. Fitz replied. “Your auras are starting to merge into one. I need you to keep your focus on one another.” She took a deep breath as her magic pulsed inside of them. Murtagh and Aimee reached for one another as the dark energy left their bodies, and the pain receded.

“It’s gone,” Aimee said.”

‘Aye, it is, but I need to make sure that everything is well, your soul lights are merging now, just let me give it a bit more strength.” Murtagh and Aimee felt the bond growing stronger each second as Mrs. Fitz poured healing energy into it.  
They smiled as their presences merged together.  
Murtagh, can you hear me? Aimee asked mentally.

Aye lass, that I can. I am glad to be hole once more, but I am exhausted.

“It is working,” he said out loud to Mrs. Fitz. ‘We can hear one another, and have full access to memories and senses.”

“Aye, there is not more I can do here; everything seems to be working perfectly. I do not sense Father Bain’s magic.” She turned to Colum. “Let us get them back to the castle; they need to get some sleep. This has drained them of some of their energy, but some sleep shall restore it. As for you James Fraser,” she added, turning towards him. “There will be no more interference in this matter. Do you understand me?”””””””””””””””” Jamie gave her a stiff nod as he tried to catch Murtagh’s eye.  
He glared at his godson as they got to their feet, and followed Colum and Mrs. Fitz from the church.

They made it back to the castle without any incident. Murtagh and Aimee walked towards their corridor, their hands clasped together.  
Jamie gave them a disapproving glare as he passed them. Murtagh glared back at him as they turned down the corridor, and entered Murtagh’s room.  
After they took off their shoes and socks, they entered the bedroom, and slid under the covers.

It is going to take me a long time for me to forgive Jamie, Murtagh said. Aimee nodded in agreement.

I agree. But the question is, will he ever except us? Murtagh sighed against her hair as he snuggled against her soft back.

I dinna ken lass, it hurts me to think on it. I never thought that he would betray me in such a way. I understand that it is hard for him to except, it would be for me if the roles were reversed. He shifted to find a more comfortable posission. But I wouldna have tried to get rid of it without their consent. That was one of the worst things I have ever been through lass, I dinna ever want to lose you again. I couldna bare it. Aimee hugged him to her.

I couldna bare it either my husband. Murtagh froze. Aimee took this as a sign that he didn’t like what he had been called. She tried to apologize, but he cut her off.

I love you my beautiful wife, do you really see me as your husband? Are you quite sure? Aimee kissed him hard on the lips.

I am quite sure. Nobody else would be able to understand who we are. Murtagh kissed her neck, biting on it slightly. I love you Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser.

We shall have to make it official one of these days. I love ye as well Mrs. Aimee Fraser. Aimee bit down on his neck, enjoying the feel of his skin between her teeth.

I like the sound of that my husband.

Aye, let us get a bit of sleep. As much as I love you biting me, I am rather tired, and so are you. We can cuddle as much as you want to later on. Have sweet dreams my pretty wife. They rested their heads on a pillow with their cheeks pressed together. Their soft snores filled the room as they drifted off into a deep sleep.

They woke a couple of hours later feeling refreshed and energized. Their stomachs growled as they left the room, and entered the sitting room where a steaming tray of food was waiting for them.

It must have been Mrs. Fitz doing, Aimee said.

I believe you are right lass, replied Murtagh, pulling out her chair so she could sit down. Once she was seated, he sat beside her and pushed their chairs together so they were touching.  
They dug into the veggie soup and soft rolls that were laid out for them. Murtagh took a large gulp of beer, but quickly set down the mug at Aimee’s grimace.

Do you not like beer lass?

I can’t stand the taste actually, but I can learn to, she added as he slid the mug away. I don’t want you to stop enjoying it, just because I don’t like it. Murtagh snorted.

I willna make ye taste it if you dinna enjoy it, I can live without it if I set my mind to it. Now none of that now, he said as her face fell. I ken what you are thinking. You are not forcing your will on me, I am glad to do it. Besides, I will probably be a much healthier man. I willna get liver failure as you call it at least. I ken you don’t like whiskey either, so I shall sustain from drinking that as well.

Are you sure? Aimee asked. I don’t want to force my will on you; I can learn to deal with it.

Aye, you could, but I want you to be happy and besides, I would do anything to insure that happens, you are not forcing your will on me, it is my choice to do this. He took a drink of water.

Well I won’t eat turnips then sense you don’t like those, Aimee replied, taking a bite of her roll. I want you to be happy as well. Once dinner was over, they took their dishes to the kitchens.  
They were happy to find that the corridors were silent. After assuring a worried Mrs. Fitz that they were well, they hurried back to their rooms.  
They re entered Murtagh’s rooms and closed the bedroom door behind them. Murtagh tossed her onto the bed, and hovered over her.

Before we start, I need ye to ken. If you need to stop for any reason, then we shall do so. If you have any flashbacks, then I will help ye through it, and we can resume later if you need to. I willna do anything you feel uncomfortable with, he said. Aimee nodded as their lips met in a deep kiss. They shuddered as they felt both points of view, and the amplified rush of tastes and emotions.  
Aimee felt her hair in Murtagh’s hands as their tongues dueled, while Murtagh knew what his skin felt like under Aimee’s roving fingers. This feeling collided with the feel of Aimee’s soft stomach as he gently massaged the muscles.

I think our clothing is in the way, Aimee said.

Are you sure about this?

Yeah, I prefer to be in the nude when I am at home anyways. Unless you are uncomfortable with that.

No Lass, you can be nude if you wish, it doesna matter to me, said Murtagh. Once their clothing was off, they lay together on the soft bed, enjoying the sensation of skin rubbing against skin.  
Murtagh reached to touch her left breast, but hesitated.

Before I do this, I wish to confirm that I do not love you in a romantic or sexual manner. I only wish to make you feel good. Is this all right with you?

Yeah, go ahead. I trust you, replied Aimee. Can I touch yours? IN answer, he guided Aimee’s hand towards his own nipple. They let out soft moans of pleasure as they explored, feelings of deep love passing between them. They touched one another’s bodies as they kissed, finding new ways to cuddle as their passion grew.

Jamie walked towards his godfather’s rooms. He wanted to check on how he was doing. His thoughts were troubled as he walked. He tried to convince himself that his connection with the witch would go away on its own, but it was a half hearted attempt at best.  
He refused to believe that Murtagh actually enjoyed the connection as he claimed. It was all in his head, and once it left them, he would forget about her beguiling ways.  
The thought of never being able to have any privacy even in his own head was horrifying. He opened the door to the outer chambers and entered.  
He froze as voices reached his ears. Walking quickly to the door, he pressed his ear against the door and listened.  
Murtagh’s voice along with the witch’s reached his ears. It was a mixture of Gaelic, along with a slightly more rapid language he had never heard before. He couldn’t understand what they were saying; their words were a tangled babble as their voices clashed. The voice of the witch switched to English as she let out a soft moan.

“Oh Murtagh, that is perfect, right there.” Murtagh’s words became more understandable as she panted rapidly.

“By Christ woman, dinna stop, you are a vixen.” Jamie’s stomach dropped as they moaned loudly.  
My God, is she having her way with him? He thought. A hot bubble of rage filled him as he threw open the door, sprang towards the bed, and yanked off the covers.  
His face grew scarlet as the image of his completely naked Godfather entered his eyes.

“What in the hell are you doing? Get away from him you whore of Satan!” Jamie yelled. “Do you not have any shame? You are not even wed and you are rutting with him?”

“You willna call her that again,” Murtagh growled, throwing the blankets over Aimee. “It isna what it looks like Jamie. If you will just let us dress, and then we shall explain.”

“I don’t need to hear your explanations! You were on the verge of having sexual intercourse outside of wed lock! God would be ashamed of ye right now.” Murtagh let out a frustrated snarl as he followed Jamie from the room, buttoning up his shirt as he did so.


	6. Chaptre six part one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to split this chapter into two parts, here is part one.

Chapter six.

“No Jamie, you are going to hear me out this time.” Murtagh’s voice was a low dangerous growl, one that Jamie knew quite well. It had been used when he had done something particularly stupid as an adolescent. There were consequences when it wasn’t obeyed.

“I suggest you start explaining yourself then,” Jamie growled at Murtagh. “Because it certainly looks like you were about to make love to her.”

“I wasna,” Murtagh growled. “Even if I was, it would be none of your concern, and I willna apologize for showing her that I love her.” Jamie let out a snort as he stared at his Godfather. “Let me get one thing clear to you Jamie,” Murtagh added, jabbing a finger at him.  
“Mistress Aimee and I are connected weather you like it or not. You shall have to learn to except that.” He sighed. “But it looks like you won’t. I thought that there was trust between us.” The bedroom door opened, revealing a fully dressed Aimee. “I dinna understand your recent behavior, you are normally open minded about things. It isna your place to tell me who I can and canna be friends with.” Murtagh sat down, leaning forward with his head in his hands. “I just want to ken why. Are you afraid?” Jamie’s face softened a bit from his glare.

“Aye, I am afraid,” he said. “I am afraid of what influence she may have over you. I ken nothing about this woman, and yet she shares a part of you.”

Aye, she does,” Murtagh leaned forward as he spoke. “Instead of speaking to me about this, you decided to have an exorcism performed on me,” Jamie could see the color rising in his godfather’s cheek. “One that could have gotten me and may haps Miss Aimee killed! Did the thought ever cross your mind that there might be damage?”

“I was doing what I thought best,” Jamie replied. “Does it not disturb you having a lass in your head?”

“No, it doesna. I trust her,” Murtagh said as Miss Aimee left the room.

“Where did she go?” Jamie inquired.

“She went to grab a piture of water for me. I willna be drinking beer or whiskey anymore.” Jamie was shocked by this; Murtagh enjoyed a good dram in the evenings.

“Why not? You love a good whiskey.”

‘Miss Aimee doesna enjoy the taste,” Murtagh replied.

“You see what I mean, she is influencing ye already.” Murtagh glared at him as he stood up.

“This was my decision Jamie, if you think that I would let a woman influence me, you dinna ken me verra well. She was afraid of that very thing when I brought it up to her.” Jamie let out a sigh as he stared into the crackling fire. Murtagh’s face grew somber as he sat back down. “Do ye want to ken what it felt like when I was blocked from her?” he asked, and then continued without waiting for an answer. “I felt empty and numb, like a huge part of me was missing. I thought I knew pain when your Mother died, but this was far worse. I felt like a former shadow of myself, it was literally the feeling that my world had ended. Luckily I fell unconscious shortly afterwards, so I didn’t have to feel it for long.” Jamie was startled by the haunted look that appeared in his godfather’s eyes.  
“If I have to give up a few things like beer and whiskey, then I will do so, I dinna care. I willna feel such a horrible thing again.” He was shaking slightly, his face rather ashen. “To speak of one of us, is to speak of the other lad. I am verra hurt by what ye did. You broke the trust that was between us. Ye didna trust me to ken what I was doing, instead, you thought you kent best and decided to take matters into yer own hands.” Jamie opened his mouth to speak, but Murtagh shook his head.  
“Please leave, I dinna wish to see ye right now.” Jamie looked at Murtagh’s tired and sad expression before he left the room.

He sighed as he made his way down the silent hallway. He hated seeing that sad look on Murtagh’s face, it made him second guess his decisions regarding his and Aimee’s union.  
He had been so certain that he had done the right thing but now, he wasn’t sure. I’m losing ye Murtagh, he thought. He decided that a good night’s rest would help him figure out what to do.  
All he knew was that if he continued on the path he was on, he would certainly loose his godfather.

Over the next few days, Jamie followed Murtagh and Miss Aimee round the castle as he helped her get to know the place. They started from the dining hall, slowly making their way to different places. The first place she was successful in finding was Colum’s study.  
Murtagh was a patient teacher, gently correcting her whenever she made a wrong turn.

“I don’t understand it Murtagh, if I know everything that you do, then why am I having so much trouble?” They had been working their way from Colum’s study to the stables on the Sunday after the exorcism, and she was starting to get frustrated.

“Knowing something and applying it are two different things lass,” Murtagh replied, giving her hand a squeeze. “It is one thing to ken the theory, but another to put it into practice. Why dinna we take a break? We have been at this all morning.” Aimee agreed to this plan, so they headed to a courtyard to relax, Jamie silently following them, and wishing that his damned arm would hurry up and heal. He forced himself to push back his discomfort as they sat on the bench swing with Aimee cuddled in his lap.  
He knew that he would have to push past his discomfort if he wanted to understand them. A small smile appeared on his face as he watched them swing. It made a creaking sound as it moved against the rope.  
They do look nice together, he thought, I am bigger than both of them. He choked back a laugh as he looked at them. He sighed to himself as a feeling of loneliness swept through him. He missed spending time with Murtagh, missed how they would talk while grooming horses, and the practical advice he always received from him.  
Well, the only way ye will get back into his graces is to try and understand his union with Miss Aimee. He found a tree that hid him from Murtagh’s sight, and sat down.

“I still think that all this is my fault,” Aimee was saying. “Maybe I should leave; it is my fault that you and Jamie aren’t speaking.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Murtagh growled, tightening his arms around her. “You havena done anything. It was Jamie who chose to act, you didna do anything. If you did leave, I would just follow after you, your no going anywhere without me.” Jamie watched a he nuzzled her hair as he began to sing.

“I’m sticking with you, cause I’m made out of glue.” Aimee smiled and took up the next line of the odd song.

“Anything that you might do, I’m gonna do too.” Murtagh chuckled as he took up the next line.

“You held up a stage coach in the rain.”

“And I’m doing the same,” Aimee replied. “I forgot how the rest of the song went,” Aimee said.

‘Och, you’ll remember it later,” said Murtagh, ruffling her hair and kissing her on the lips. “You are getting the point I am trying to make though I hope.”

“Yeah I am,” Aimee replied. “I won’t leave.”

“Good,” Murtagh said, helping her to her feet. “Let’s get some lunch, I’m starving.” Jamie smiled after them as they left. Murtagh does have a bonnie voice, he thought. I will have to try to get him to sing a bit more.  
If he ever speaks to me again that is. Jamie shook his head as he followed them into the castle. Of course he’ll speak to me, he just needs time.

“I think it is time I pull some pranks,” Aimee said as they dug into bowls of udon soup she had made.

“What prank do you wish to pull?” Murtagh asked.

“You’ll see,” Aimee said, noisily slurping her soup and ignoring the scandalized muttering from the working women nearby.

If the Japanese can slurp their soup then so can I, Murtagh chuckled at her thought.

I am afraid that you are not in Japan lassie, he teased back.

“Well, have you heard of the knock and run prank?” Aimee asked.

“No,” Murtagh lied. “What is it?” Aimee took another slurp of soup before answering.

“It is where you knock on someone’s door, and then run away.” Murtagh smiled at her. He would gladly indulge in her fun. The voice of one of the women nearby broke them from their conversation.

“The lasses and I have been talking, and we have begun to notice that you have gained some weight Miss Aimee. Some of us think that you are pregnant. Is it true?” Aimee’s face lost all color, Murtagh could see the soup spoon shaking in her hand.

“Where is the father? I see no wedding ring,” another voice chimed in. Aimee picked up her glass of water. “Did you conceive out of wedlock?” All activity ceased as the kitchen seemed to hold its breath, waiting for her answer.

“I need air,” Aimee said, grabbing her cane and stumbling to her feet.

“Let me take you to your rooms,” Murtagh said.

“No, I want to be alone,” Aimee replied. Murtagh got to his feet, and walked with her towards the door, ready to help.

“Are you sure?” Murtagh inquired. Aimee whirled on him, her eyes bright with fury and terror.

“For Ganesh’s sake can you not get a fucking clue?” she screamed. “Leave me alone!” Murtagh was rooted to the floor in shock as she shoved past him.  
He gave her a couple of seconds before he too left. He gently brushed off her apology as they walked their separate ways.

Think nothing of it lass, you are going through a great deal, it is only natural that you snap at some point.

Yeah, but it didn’t have to be you, you’ve been nothing but helpful ever sense we met. It is no wonder you think women are unreasonable.

Och, dinna get me wrong lass, I still believe that women are unreasonable, but I ken the reason why. You luckily, are not as unreasonable as most, dinna fash eh?

Now your Canadian, Aimee teased.

Och, take off you hoser, Murtagh shot back, sending her a smile.

Get out hose head, and take a beer with you.

Ah lass, your such a hose head.

Um, Canadians don’t use the word lass hoser.

Och, take off.

To the great white north? Aimee asked, smirking.

Aye, tis a beauty way to go eh?

Tis, who the hell says that lame word you hose head.

Och, what are ye lass, the grammar police?

Yeah, the honorary grammar police according to my high school English teacher.

Well she’s a hose head.

Nah, you’re a hose head.

“Murtagh, may I have a word with you?” Murtagh turned to see Jamie walking towards him, an uncertain look on his face.

“Aye, what can I do for you lad?” Jamie drew level with him, leaning up against the stone wall beside him.

“I want to apologize for the terrible way I have treated you and Miss Aimee. I didna show you the proper respect when I did what I did. Will you forgive me?” Murtagh ran a hand through his hair. Half of him wanted to stay mad at Jamie, but the other wanted to forgive him, tired of their fight.

What do you think lass?

I think you should give him a second chance, Aimee answered. I know from your memories that he isn’t normally like this, and I also know you want to forgive him. You are not happy that is certain. Murtagh sighed, turning to face his godson.

“Aye, I shall give you a second chance, but I want you to realize that Miss Aimee is a part of this family, and shall be treated as such, as I would do for your female companion.”

“Aye, that I shall do,” replied Jamie. ‘Can she hear us?”

“Aye, she can,” Murtagh said as they made their way towards the kitchens to grab a drink.

“Right, Miss Aimee, I am very sorry for the way I have treated you, I just dinna want Murtagh to be hurt is all.”

“Aimee said that she forgives you, just don’t do anymore exorcisms, and she will call it done.”

“Aye, no more exorcisms,” Jamie replied.

Colum stood at his window, gazing at the world beyond. He smiled at a crow that swooped past, making its way home. His brother entered his field of vision. He was swaying dangerously in the saddle of a beautiful brown stallion.  
A scowl twisted Colum’s face. Of course you are drunk, out with Angus and Rupert no doubt, he thought, watching as Dougal steered the horse towards the stables, yanking on the poor creature’s reigns with more force than was warranted. Your own little boys club where the drink and fornication never ends. Colum snorted at this thought as he poured himself a glass of wine. He sipped at it, watching as Dougal weaved towards the stables. His breath caught in his throat as he just managed to keep from plowing face first into a tree. He winced, remembering his own accident on a horse as a wee lad, back when he was a normal person and he and Dougal had been best friends. Colum shook himself from his memories, and focused on the event taking place.  
My fool of a brother could use a good hit from a tree, he thought, his scowl growing more fierce. May haps that will teach him a lesson. Drinking and riding horses should not mix, though; I doubt he will ever learn. Colum grabbed a small cake from a tray that stood nearby, and bit into it. Sweet currents along with cinnamon burst on his tongue. Old Alec would have his hide when he saw the way one of his horses was being treated.  
The horse seemed to have enough of this poor treatment, and took matters into his own hands. He tossed back his head, letting out a loud nay. He stood on his back legs, causing a surprised Dougal to fall into an indignant heap on the ground. The horse snorted as he galloped towards the stables, no doubt ready for a bite of oats.  
Colum chuckled as Dougal lurched to his feet, throwing a murderous look at the disappearing horse. He stumbled rather gracelessly towards the castles weaving in and out as he did so. Colum pinched his nose in irritation. Dougal was five and forty, yet he still acted like a lad in his adolescents. Just hang in there, he said to himself. The gathering is a couple weeks away, and then he shall be leaving to collect the rents. He shall be out of your hair soon. A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Come in,” he called. Miss Aimee entered the room and sat down, looking upset.

“What is the matter?’ he asked.

“They know about my pregnancy,” Aimee said. “The kitchen maids. They say I am beginning to show. I ran away like a stupid coward when they asked me. I haven’t even gotten up the nerve to talk to Mrs. Fitz about it.” Colum sighed and ran a hand through his hair, wincing as his legs gave a throb of pain.

“I am not wanting to tell you what to do about this situation, but Mrs. Fitz shall not judge you or tell anybody about it. In the realm of the fairies, rape is a serious offence, or it used to be before they died out.”

“How did they die out?” asked Aimee.

“You shall have to ask Mrs. Fitz,” replied Colum. ‘Will you join me at Gwyllyn’s performance this evening?” he asked.  
“He is wanting to meet you.” Aimee hesitated for a few seconds, and then gave a slow nod. “Excellent,” said Colum.

“I don’t know my Laird,” Aimee said as she and Colum stood in the entrance hall, getting ready to enter for the performance. “They’ll stare at me.”

“No they will not,” Colum countered. “It will be fine, come on.” Aimee nodded, and stepped into the hall, feeling Murtagh’s encouraging smile.  
Colum lead her through the chattering crowd to a seat beside his own, and offered her some cider, which she took with a nod of thanks. While Aimee sipped her cider, Murtagh found a seat beside Jamie.  
Aimee smiled at this while she listened to Colum speak with Letitia and Hamish about Gwyllyn.  
Once Hamish and Letitia left to find their seats, Colum leaned in close. Aimee and Murtagh could smell the wine that hung around him.

“Out of curiosity, did you understand the Gaelic? You told me that you and Murtagh share memories and thoughts. Do you share abilities as well?”

“Not exactly,” Aimee said. “I understood the translations from Murtagh knowing the language, but I cannot speak the language to save my life. My tongue is not used to the accent. Another for instance is is the piano. Murtagh knows the theory of how I play, and notes and time signatures, but he cannot play.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Colum replied.

“Ah, here comes Laoghaire,” Jamie said. Aimee felt Murtagh’s annoyance at the mention of the girl.

“Aye,” he replied, tone low. “But she isna the sort of girl you should have.”

“Here comes Ned Gowan,” Colum said.

“What sort of girl should I have Murtagh?” Jamie asked. “She is bonnie.”

“Mistress Aimee, your Lairdship,” Ned greeted, coming to join Aimee and Colum.

“Hi Ned Gowan, how is your evening?” Aimee asked.

“Aye, she is bonnie,” Murtagh said to Jamie. “But that is all she is. She is all looks, and no brains.” Aimee gave Murtagh a mental nod of agreement to his words.

I am doing quite well Miss,” said Ned, sitting down on her other side. “It is nice to see Gwyllyn perform once more. I have been so busy with my work that I havena had the time for entertainment.” Murtagh’s laughter filled Aimee’s head as Jamie spoke.

“What is so funny Murtagh?” Jamie inquired. “I see you trying not to laugh.”

Aye lass, that is quite true. Ned Gowan’s chambers are right by his study so he can get to work easily.

“Just a conversation I am having with Aimee,” he whispered to Jamie. Both groups fell silent as Gwyllyn struck a chord on his harp and began to sing.  
Aimee heard Colum give a sad sigh as the song began.

“What is wrong?” she asked, wondering if she was doing the right thing.

“Margret loved this song,” replied Colum. “She was a brilliant lass with a brilliant mind for science. She loved it.”

“Were you lovers?” asked Aimee.

“Aye lass, we were, in secret. My Father would have sent her away if he ever found out. This was before I married Letitia.”

“What happened to her?” asked Aimee. Colum sighed once more before answering.

“Father Bain had her burnt at the steak due to her scientific knowledge. He was afraid that she would turn his flock away from God. The Catholic church isna fond of science.”

“Why didn’t your father stop it?” Aimee whispered, her voice was tinged with anger.

“For the same reasons as Father Bain. Black Jacob was a devout Catholic, and mistrusted science, and anything out of the ordinary.”

He reminds me of the Dursleys in Harry Potter, Aimee said.

Aye, he certainly does, Murtagh replied.

“I was ill during the trial,” Colum continued. “I didn’a ken about it until a few days after I was well. By that time, she was already dead.” Colum sighed. “It wouldn’t have worked out between us anyways, my parents were searching for a bride that would be a good political match, and I had to do my duty. I didn’t wish to marry Letitia at first, but we grew to care for one another.  
Margret would not have been happy as a laird’s wife. Ellen was foolish for marrying Brian, you don’t just go off and marry the first person you clap eyes on. Romance takes time to grow, and she and Brian were strangers who may have felt love’s pull, but that is no reason to leave your family, and not tell them where you are. Love at first sight is nonsense. They should rename it, and call it lust at first sight.” Colum had clearly been wanting to say all of this for a while.

“But what about Romeo and Juliet?” Ned asked. “That play was romantic, two families at odds, and they find one another, and fall in love.” Colum scoffed.

“Dinna be foolish Ned Gowan. Just look at what happened to them. They die in the end, because they can’t live without one another. That isn’t romantic, it is merely two persons who are obsessed with one another, and paid for it with their lives.”

“I actually agree,” said Aimee. “I think that Shakespeare was teaching us a lesson in the play, he was trying to warn us about the stupid things that people do when falling for one another. I wouldn’t know though, I’ve never fallen in love with anybody, and frankly I don’t really care to.”

“What is wrong with romance?” Ned asked a little hotly. Aimee sighed as a spark of annoyance flared in her.

I don’t know how many times my friends back home have tried setting me up on dates when I have clearly expressed opposition to the whole thing, she grumped to Murtagh.

“I don’t care if people fall in love and buy a nice cottage by the lake,” she said to Ned. “I simply have never been attracted to anybody before, which makes me able to see clearly the mistakes that couples make when they listen to society’s view on romance, rather than doing what is best for them as a couple.”

Aye lass and now Gwyllyn is singing a sentimental romantic song just for this conversation, Murtagh replied. Aimee gave Murtagh a mental smile at his joke as she continued speaking to Ned.

“It is like Colum said, Romeo and Juliet were in an unhealthy obsessive relationship, and that is not love. Tell me Ned Gowan, if your lover ended up dead, or broke off your relationship for some reason, would you kill yourself?” Ned spluttered on his ale while Colum chuckled.

“No, of course not,” Ned replied when his coughing fit had passed.

“There you are then,” said Aimee. “I am not saying that I didn’t enjoy the play, I love it in fact. I am just giving my view on the theme.” Gwyllyn had switched to singing about a sailor at sea. Aimee smiled when she realized that the key was in C minor, one of her favorites. Aimee scowled as the familiar feeling of nausea struck her.

“Mistress, are you well?” Ned asked.

“No, I need to go to the ladies room.”

“All right, I shall see you when you get back,” Colum said. Aimee nodded, got up, and left the hall.

****.***

Jamie smiled as he poured himself another dram. He was glad that his relationship with Murtagh had been mended. He could see a look of concentration on Murtagh’s face.

“Are you talking with Miss Aimee?” he whispered curiously.

“Aye,” Murtagh replied. ‘She is teaching me a wee song.”

“Oh, what song is that?” Jamie asked.

“It is a rather repetitive tune called The Song that Never Ends.”

“But how is that possible? Every song must end at some point,” Jamie countered. Murtagh laughed, flashing him a smirk.

“Not this one,” he replied, and began to sing softly.

This is the song that doesn’t end.  
Yes it goes on and on my friend.  
Some people, started singing it, not knowing what it was, and they’ll continue singing it forever just because.

“That is the basic song,” Murtagh said when he was done. “It keeps going and going until the person hearing it wants to tare his or her hair out. Would it not be fun to test it on Dougal eh?” Jamie burst out laughing.

“Aye, it would be most fun. I dinna thing he would last very long, perhaps a minute.” His laughter died at the sudden look on Murtagh’s face. With a flash, he was out of his seat, and flying towards the front of the hall, not caring about the looks he was getting from the crowd.

“Murtagh,” Jamie said, springing after him. “What the hell is wrong with ye?” Murtagh turned towards him. Jamie had never seen such a dangerous cold look before. He looked like a snake ready to strike out at the first person in his path. He looked wild. Murtagh’s voice was a low dangerous hiss.

“She’s in danger.” With those three words, he was off through the double doors, and flying up the stairs. Jamie ran after him, not having any idea what was happening. He didn’t know what he could do with one arm, but he would do his best to defend his godfather and Miss Aimee.  
They reached the next corridor to find Miss Aimee struggling against two drunken men. Her dress was pulled down around her ankles; her left cheek was sporting a large bruze. She was doing her best to gouge out the fat man’s eyes, judging by his yells of pain. Jamie couldn’t blame him, she had long nails.

“Stop your struggling woman,” the skinny man slurred. “We only wish to have a bit of fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs in this part:  
> Velvet Underground - I'm Sticking With You.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H5je_eK0V1w
> 
> Thomas Dolby-She Blinded Me With Science.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nMWGXt979yg
> 
> Lambchops: This is the song that nevre ends.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZNaecq_rpU
> 
> I hope the links work.


End file.
